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AN    ENGLISHMAN 
IN    PARIS 

{NOTES  AND  RECOLLECTIONS) 


TWO   VOLUMES   IN   ONE 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1892 


Authorized  Edition. 


Annex 

135 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

The  Quartier-Latin  in  the  late  thirties — The  difference  between  then  and 
now — A  caricature  on  the  walls  of  Paris — 1  am  anxious  to  be  intro- 
duced to  the  quarter  whence  it  emanated — I  am  taken  to  "  La  Childe- 
bert,"  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  original  of  the  caricature — 
The  story  of  Bouginier  and  his  nose — Dantan  as  a  caricaturist — He 
abandons  that  branch  of  art  after  he  has  made  Madame  Malibran  burst 
into  tears  at  the  sight  of  her  statuette — How  Bouginier  came  to  be  im- 
mortalized on  the  fagade  of  the  Passage  du  Caire — One  of  the  first  co- 
operative societies  in  France — An  artists'  hive — The  origin  of  "  La 
Childebert" — Its  tenants  in  my  time — The  proprietress — Madame 
Chanfort,  the  providence  of  poor  painters — Her  portraits  sold  after  her 
death — High  jmks  at  "  La  Childebert" — The  Childebertians  and  their 
peacefully  inclined  neighbours — Gratuitous  baths  and  compulsory 
douches  at  "La  Childebert" — The  proprietress  is  called  upon  to  re- 
pair the  roof— The  Childebertians  bivouac  on  the  Place  St  Germain- 
ues-Pres — They  start  a  "  Society  for  the  Conversion  of  the  Mahomet- 
ans " — The  public  subscribe  liberally — What  becomes  of  the  subscrip- 
tions?— My  visits  to  "La  Childebert"  breed  a  taste  for  the  other 
amusements  of  the  Quartier-Latin — Bobino  and  its  entertainments — 
The  audience — The  manager — His  stereotyped  speech — The  reply  in 
chorus — Woe  to  the  bourgeois-intruder — Stove-pipe  hats  a  rarity  in 
the  Quartier-Latin — The  dress  of  the  collegians — Their  mode  of  living 
— Suppers  when  money  was  flush,  rolls  and  milk  when  it  was  not — 
A  fortune-teller  in  the  Eue  de  Tournon — Her  prediction  as  to  the 
future  of  Josephine  de  Beauharnais — The  allowance  to  students  in 
those  days — The  Odeon  deserted — Students'  habits — The  Chaumiere — 
Eural  excursions — Pere  Bonvin's 1 

CHAPTER  II. 

My  introduction  to  the  celebrities  of  the  day — The  Cafe  de  Paris — The  old 
Prince  Demidoff — The  old  man's  mania — His  sons — The  furniture  and 
attendance  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris — Its  high  prices — A  mot  of  Alfred  de 
Musset — The  cuisine — A  rebuke  of  the  proprietor  to  Balzac — A  ver- 
sion by  one  of  hLs  predecessors  of  the  cause  of  Vatel's  suicide — Some 
of  the  haMtues — Tneir  intercourse  with  the  attendants — Their  cour- 
teous behaviour  towards  one  another — Le  veau  a  la  casserole — What 
Alfred  de  Musset,  Balzac,  and  Alexandre  Dumas  thought  of  it — A 
Bilhouette  of  Alfred  de  Musset — His  brother  Paul  on  his  election  as  a 
member  of  the  Academic — A  silhouette  of  Balzac,  between  sunset  and 
sunrise — A  curious  action  against  the  publishers  of  an  almanack — A 

(iii) 


iv  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

PAGE 

full-length  portrait  of  Balzac — His  pecuniary  embarrassments — His 
visions  of  wealth  and  speculations — Ins  constant  neglect  of  his  duties 
.  as  a  National  Guard— Ilis  troubles  in  consequence  thereof— L'liotel 
des  Haricots — Some  of  his  fellow-prisoners — Adam,  the  composer  of 
"  Le  Postilion  de  Lonjumeau  " — Eugene  Sue ;  his  portrait — His  dandy- 
ism— The  origin  of  the  Paris  Joctey  Club— Eugene  Sue  becomes  a 
member — The  success  of  "  Les  Mysteres  de  Paris  " — The  origin  of  "  Le 
Juif-Errant" — Sue  makes  himself  objectionable  to  the  members  of  the 
Jockey  Club — His  name  struck  oti'  the  list — His  decline  and  disap- 
pearance        24 

CHAPTER  III. 

Alexandre  Dumas  pere — Why  he  made  himself  particularly  agreeable  to 
Englishmen — His  way  of  silencing  people — The  pursuit  he  loved  best 
next  to  literature — He  has  the  privilege  of  going  down  to  the  kitchens 
of  the  Cafe  de  Paris — No  one  questions  his  literary  genius,  some  ques- 
tion his  culinary  capacities— Dr.  Veron  and  his  cordon-bleu — Dr. 
Veron's  reasons  for  dining  out  instead  of  at  home — Dr.  Veron's  friend, 
the  philanthropist,  who  does  not  go  to  the  theatre  because  he  objects 
to  be  hurried  with  his  emotions — Dr.  Veron,  instigated  by  his  cook, 
accuses  Dumas  of  having  collaborateurs  in  preparing  his  dishes  as  he 
was  known  to  have  collaborateui-s  in  his  literary  worn — Dumas'  wrath 
— He  invites  us  to  a  dinner  which  shall  be  wholly  cooked  by  him  in 
the  presence  of  a  delegate  to  be  chosen  by  the  guests — The  lot  falls 
upon  me — Dr.  Veron  and  Sophie  make  the  amerule  honorable — A  din- 
ner-partv  at  Veron's — A  curious  lawsuit  in  connection  with  Weber's 
"Freyschutz" — Nestor  Eoqueplan,  who  became  the  successor  of  the 
defendant  in  the  case,  suggests  a  way  out  of  it — L^on  Pillet  virtually 
adopts  it  and  wins  the  day — A  similar  plan  adopted  years  before  by  a 
fireman  on  duty  at  the  opera,  on  being  tried  by  court-martial  for  hav- 
ing fallen  asleep  during  the  performance  of  "  Guido  et  Genevra " — 
Firemen  not  bad  judges  of  plays  and  operas — They  were  often  con- 
sulted both  by  Meyerbeer  and  Dumas — Dumas  at  work — How  he  idled 
his  time  away — Dumas  causes  the  traffic  receipts  of  the  Chemin  de  Fer 
de  I'Ouest  to  swell  during  his  three  years'  residence  at  Saint-Germain 
— M.  de  Montalivet  advises  Louis-Philippe  to  invite  Dumas  to  Ver- 
sailles, to  see  what  his  presence  will  do  for  the  royal  city — Louis- 
Philippe  does  not  act  upon  the  advice — The  relations'between  Dumas 
and  the  d'Orleans  family — After  the  Revolution  of '48,  Dumas  becomes 
a  candidate  for  parliament — The  story  of  his  canvass  and  his  address 
to  the  electors  at  Joigny — Dumas'  utter  indifference  to  money  matters 
— He  casts  his  burdens  upon  others — Dumas  and  his  creditors — Writs 
and  distraints — How  they  are  dealt  with — Dumas'  indiscriminate  gen- 
erosity— A  dozen  houses  full  of  new  furniture  in  half  as  many  years 
—Dumas'  frugality  at  table — Literary  remuneration— Dumas  and  his 
son — "Leave  me  a  hundred  francs" 43 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Dr.  Louis  Veron — The  real  man  as  distinguished  from  that  of  his  own 
"  Memoire^' — He  takes  the  management  of  the  Paris  Opera — How  it 
was  governed  befor-e  his  advent— Meyerbeer's  "Robert  le  Diable" 
underlined — Meyerbeer  and  his  doubts  upon  the  merits  of  his  work — 
Meyerbeer's  generosity — Meyerbeer  and  the  beggars  of  the  Rue  Le 
Peletier — Dr.  Veron,  the  inventor  of  the  modern  newspaper  puff — 
Some  specimens  of  advertisements  in  their  infancy— I)r.  Veron  takes 


CONTENTS,  y 

PAGS 

a  leaf  from  the  book  of  Moliere — Dr.  Veron's  love  of  money — His 
superstitions — His  objections  to  travelliu)^  in  railwiivs — He  quotes  the 
Queen  of  England  as  an  example — When  Queen  \  ietoria  overcomes 
her  objection,  Veron  holds  out — ''  Queen  Victoria  lias  got  a  successor : 
the  Veron  dynasty  begins  and  ends  with  me  " — Thirteen  at  table — I 
make  the  acquaintance  of  Taglioni — The  •woman  and  the  ballerian — 
Her  adventure  at  Perth — An  improvised  performance  of  "  Nathalie, 
la  Laitiere  Suisse  " — Another  adventure  in  Kussia — A  modern  Claude 
Du-Val — My  last  meeting  with  Taglioni — A  dinner-party  at  De 
Morny's — A  comedy  scene  between  husband  and  wife — Flotow,  the 
composer  of  "  Martha  " — His  family — His  father's  objection  to  the  com- 
poser's profession — The  latter's  interview  with  M.  de  Saint-Georges, 
the  author  of  the  libretto  of  Balfe's  "  Bohemian  Girl " — M.  de  Saint- 
Georges  prevails  ujjon  the  father  to  let  his  son  study  in  Paris  for  five 
years,  and  to  provide  for  him  during  that  time — The  supplies  are 
stopped  on  the  last  day  of  the  fifth  year — Flotow,  at  the  advice  of  M. 
de  Saint-Georges,  stays  on  and  lives  by  giving  piano-lessons — His 
earthly  possessions  at  his  first  success — "  Kob  Roy  "  at  the  Hotel  Cas- 
tellane — Lord  Granville's  opinion  of  the  music — The  Hotel  Castel- 
lane  and  some  Paris  salons  during  Louis-PIiiliDpe's  reign — The  Prin- 
cesse  de  Lieven's,  M.  Thiers',  etc. — What  Macfame  de  Girardin's  was 
like — Victor  Hugo's — Perpetual  adoration;  very  artistic,  but  nothing 
to  eat  or  to  drink — The  salon  of  the  amba.ssadbr  of  the  Two  Sicilies- 
Lord  and  Lady  Granville  at  the  English  Embassy — The  salon  of  Count 
Apponyi  — A  story  connected  with  it — Furniture  and  entertainments 
— Cakes,  ices,  and  tea ;  no  champagne  as  during  the  Second  Empire — 
Tlie  Hotel  Castellane  and  its  amateur  theatricals — Kival  companies — • 
No  under-studies — Lord  Brougham  at  the  Hotel  Castellane— His  bad 
French  and  his  would-be  Don  Juanism — A  Frencli  rendering  of 
Shakespeare's  "  There  is  but  one  step  between  the  sublime  and  the 
ridiculous,"  as  applied  to  Lord  Brougham — He  nearly  accepts  a  part  in 
a  farce  where  his  bad  French  is  likely  to  produce  a  comic  effect — His 
successor  as  a  murderer  of  the  language — M.  de  Saint-Georges — Like 
Moliere,  he  reads  his  plays  to  his  housekeeper — When  the  latter  is  not 
satisfied,  the  dinner  is  spoilt,  however  j?reat  the  success  of  the  play  in 
public  estimation — Great  men  and  their  housekeepers — Turner,  Jean 
Jacques  Kousseau,  Eugene  Delacroix 62 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Boulevards  in  the  forties — The  Chinese  Baths — A  favourite  tobacconist 
of  Alfred  de  Musset — The  price  of  cigars — The  diligence  still  the  usual 
mode  of  travelling — Provincials  in  Paris — Parliamentary  see-saw  be- 
tween M.  Thiers  and  M.  Guizot — Amenities  of  editors — An  advocate 
of  universal  sutfrage — Distribution  of  gratuitous  sausages  to  the  work- 
ing man  on  the  king's  birtliday — The  rendezvous  of  actors  in  search 
of  an  engag-cment — Frederick  "Lemaitre  on  the  eve  of  appearing  in  a 
new  part^The  Legitimists  begin  to  leave  their  seclusion  and  to  mingle 
with  the  bourgeoisie — Alexandre  Dumas  and  Scribe — The  latter's  fer- 
tility iis  a  playwright— The  National  Guards  go  shooting,  in  uniform 
and  in  companies,  on  the  Plaiiie  Saint-Denis — Vldocq's  private  in- 
quiry office  in  the  Eue  Vivienne — No  river-side  resorts — The  plaster 
elephant  on  the  Place  de  la  Bastille — The  sentimental  romances  of 
Loisa  Puget — The  songs  of  the  working  classes — Cheap  bread  and  wine 
— How  they  enjoyed  themselves  on  Sundays  and  holidays — Theophile 
Gautier's  pony-carriage — The  hatred  of  the  bourgeoisie — Nestor  Roque- 
plan's  expression  of  it — Gavarni's — M.  Thiers'  sister  keeps  a  restaurant 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Drouot— When  he  is  in  power,  the  members 


vi  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


of  the  Opposition  go  and  dine  there,  and  publish  facetious  accounts  of 
the  entertainment — All  appearances  to  the  contrary,  people  like  Guizot 
better  than  Thiers— But  few  entries  for  the  race  for  wealth  in  those 
days— The  Rothschilds  still  live  in  the  Kue  Laiitte— Favourite  lounges 
—The  Boulevards,  the  Eue  Le  Peletier,  and  the  Pass^e  de  I'Opera— 
The  Opera— The  Rue  Le  Peletier  and  its  attractions— The  Restaurant 
of  Paolo  Broggi- The  Estaminet  du  Divan— Literarjr  waiters  and  Boni- 
face— Major  Fraser— The  mysterj'  surrounding  his  origin— Another 
mysterious  personage — The  Passage  de  TOpera  is  invaded  by  the 
stockjobbers,  and  loses  its  prestige  as  a  promenade — Bernard  Latte's, 
the  publisher  of  Donizetti's  operas,  becomes  deserted— Tortoni's — 
Louis-Blanc— His  scruples  as  an  editor— A  few  words  about  duelling 
— Two  tragic  meetings— Lola  Montea  — Her  adventurous  career— A 
celebrated  trial— My  first  meeting  with  Gustave  Flaubert,  the  author 
of  "Madame  Bovary"  and  " Salambo "— Emile  de  Girardin— His 
opinion  of  duelling — My  decision  with  regard  to  it — The  original  of 
"La  Dame  aux  Camillas  "—Her  parentage— Alexandre  Dumas  gives 
the  diagnosis  of  her  character  in  connection  with  his  son's  play — 
L'Homme  au  Camellia— M.  Lautour-Mezerai,  the  inventor  of  children's 
periodical  literature  in  France — Auguste  Lireux — He  takes  the  manage- 
ment of  the  Odeon— Balzac  again— His  schemes,  his  greed— Lireux 
more  fortunate  with  other  authors — Anglophobia  on  the  French  stage 
— Gallophobia  on  the  English  stage .    86 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Rachel  and  some  of  her  fellow-actors — Rachel's  true  character — Her  greedi- 
ness and  spitefulness — Her  vanity  and  her  wit — Her  powers  of  fascina- 
tion—The cost  of  being  fascinated  by  her — Her  manner  of  levying  toll 
— Some  of  her  victims,  Comte  Duchatel  and  Dr.  Veron — The  story  of 
her  guitar — A  little  transaction  between  her  and  M.  Fould — Her  sup- 
posed charity  and  generosity — Ten  tickets  for  a  charity  concert — How 
she  made  them  into  twenty — How  she  could  have  made  them  into  a 
hundred — Baron  Taylor  puzzled — Her  manner  of  giving  presents — 
Beauvallet's  precaution  with  regard  to  one  of  her  gifts — Alexandre 
Dumas  the  younger,  wiser  or  perhaps  not  so  wise  in  nis  generation — 
Rachel  as  a  raconteuse — The  story  of  her  debut  at  the  Gymnase — What 
Rachel  would  have  been  as  an  actor  instead  of  an  actress — Her  comic 

fenius — Rachel's  mother — What  became  of  Rachel's  money — Mama 
elix  as  a  pawnbroker — Rachel's  trinkets — Two  curious  bracelets — 
Her  first  appearance  before  Nicholas  I. — A  dramatic  recital  in  the 
open  air — Rachel's  opinion  of  the  handsomest  man  in  Europe — Rachel 
and  Samson — Her  obligations  to  him — How  she  repays  tnem — How 
she  goes  to  Berryer  to  be  coached  in  the  fable  of  "The' Two  Pigeons" 
— An  anecdote  of  Berryer — Rachel's  fear  of  a  "  warm  reception  "  on  the 
first  night  of  "  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  " — How  she  averts  the  danger — 
Samson  as  a  man  and  as  an  actor — Petticoat-revolts  at  the  Com^die- 
Fran^aise — Samson  and  Regnier  as  buffers — Their  different  ways  of 
pouring  oil  upon  the  troubled  waters — Mdlle.  Sylvanie  Plessy — A 
parallel  between  her  and  Sarah  Bernhardt — Samson  and  Regnier's  pride 
in  their  profession — The  different  character  of  that  pride — "  Apollo 
with  a  bad  tailor,  and  who  dresses  without  a  looking-glass  " — Samson 
gives  a  lesson  in  declamation  to  a  procureur-imperial — The  secret  of 
Regnier's  greatness  as  an  actor — A  lesson  at  the  Conservatoire — Reg- 
nier on  "  make-up  " — Regnier's  opinion  of  genius  on  the  stage — A  mot 
of  Augustine  Brohan — Giovanni,  the  wigmaker  of  the  Comedie-Fran- 
§aise — His  pride  in  his  profession — M.  Ancessy,  the  musical  director, 
and  his  three  wigs 128 


CONTENTS.  yii 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PAGE 

Two  composers,  Auber  and  F^licien  David — Auber,  the  legend  of  his  youth- 
ful appearance — How  it  arose — His  daily  rides,  his  love  of  women's 
society — His  mot  on  Mozart's  "Don  Juan"— The  only  drawback  to 
Auber's  enjoyment  of  women's  society — His  reluctance  to  take  his  hat 
off — How  he  managed  to  keep  it  on  most  of  the  time — His  opinion 
upon  Meyerbeer's  and  Halevy's  genius — His  opinion  upon  Gerard  de 
iNerval,  who  hanged  himself  with  his  hat  on — nis  love  of  solitude — 
His  fondness  of  Paris — His  grievance  against  his  mother  for  not  hav- 
ing given  him  birth  there — He  refuses  to  leave  Paris  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  siege — His  small  appetite — He  proposes  to  write  a  new 
opera  when  tlie  Prussians  are  gone — Auber  suffers  no  privations,  but 
has  difficulty  in  finding  fodder  for  his  horse — The  Parisians  claim  it 
for  food — Another  legend  about  Auber's  independence  of  sleep — How 
and  where  he  generally  slept — "Why  Auber  snored  in  Veron's  com- 
pan\',  and  why  he  did  not  in  that  of  other  people — His  capacity  for 
work — Auber  a  brilliant  talker — Auber's  gratitude  to  the  artists  who 
interpreted  his  work,  but  ditferent  from  Meyerbeer's — The  reason  why, 
according  to  Auber — Jealousy  or  humility — Auber  and  the  younger 
Coquelin — "  The  verdict  on  all  things  in  this  world  may  be  summed 
up  in  the  one  phrase,  'It's  an  injustice'" — Felicien  David — The  man 
— The  beginnings  of  his  career — His  terrible  poverty — He  joins  the 
Saint-Simoniens,  and  goes  with  some  of  them  to  the  East — ^Their  re- 
ception at  Constantinople — M.  Scribe  and  the  libretto  of  "  L'Africaine  " 
— David  in  Egypt  at  the  court  of  Mehemet-Ali— David's  description 
of  him — Meheniet's  way  of  testing  the  educational  progress  of  his  sons 
— Woe  to  the  fat  kine — Mehcmet- Ali  suggests  a  new  mode  of  teaching 
music  to  the  inmates  of  tlie  harem — felicien  David's  further  wander- 
ings in  Egypt — Their  effect  upon  his  musical  genius — His  return  to 
France — He  tells  the  story  of  the  first  performance  of  "Le  Desert" — 
An  ambulant  box-office — His  success — Fame,  but  no  money — He  sells 
the  score  of  "  Le  Desert " — He  loses  his  savings — "  La  Perle  du  Br6- 
sil"  and  the  Coup-d'Etat — "No  luck" — Napoleon  IIL  remains  his 
debtor  for  eleven  years — A  mot  of  Auber,  and  one  of  Alexandre  Du- 
mas pere — The  story  of  "  Aida  " — Why  Fdlicieu  David  did  not  com- 
pose the  music — The  real  author  of  the  libretto 152 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Three  painters,  and  a  school  for  piff'erari — Gabriel  Decamps,  Eugene  De- 
lacroix, and  Horace  Vemet — The  prices  of  pictures  in  tne  forties — De- 
lacroix' find  no  purchasers  at  all — ^Decamps'  drawings  fetch  a  thousand 
francs  each — Decamps  not  a  happy  man — The  cause  of  his  unhappi- 
ness — The  man  and  the  painter — ^Ile  finds  no  pleasure  in  being  popular 
— Eugene  Delacroix — His  contempt  for  the  bourgeoisie — A  parallel 
between  Delacroix  and  Shakespeare — Was  Delacroix  tall  or  short? — 
His  love  of  tiowers — His  delicate  health — His  personal  appearance — 
His  indifterence  to  the  love-passion — George  Sand  and  Delacroix — 
A  miscarried  love-scene — Delacroix'  housekeeper,  Jenny  Leguillou — 
Delacroix  does  not  want  to  pose  as  a  model  for  one  of  George  Sand's 
heroes — Delacroix  as  a  writer — His  approval  of  Carlyle's  dictum, 
"  Show  me  how  a  man  sings,"  etc. — His  humour  tempered  by  his  rev- 
erence — His  failure  as  a  caricaturist — His  practical  jokes  on  would-be 
art-critics — Delacroix  at  home — His  dress  while  at  work — Horace  Ver- 
net's,  Paul  Delaroche's,  Ingres' — Early  at  work — He  does  not  wast-e 
time  over  lunch — How  he  "spent  his  evenings — His  dislike  of  being 
reproduced  in  marble  or  on  canvas  after  his  death — Horace  Vemet — 


viii  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

PAQK 

The  contnust  between  the  two  men  and  the  two  artists — Vemet's  ap- 
pearance— His  own  account  of  how  he  became  a  painter — Moral  and 
mental  resemblance  to  Alexandre  Dumas  pere — His  political  opinions 
— Vernet  and  Nicholas  I. — A  bold  answer — His  opinion  on  the  mental 
state  of  the  Eomanotfs — The  comic  side  of  Vemet's  character — He 
thinks  himself  a  Vauban — His  interviews  with  M.  Thiers — His  admira- 
tion for  everything  military — His  worship  of  Alfred  de  Vigny — His  in- 
effectual atteinpts  to  paint  a  scene  in  connection  with  the  storming  of 
Constantine — Laurent-Jan  proposes  to  write  an  epic  on  it — He  gives  a 
synopsis  of  the  cantos — Laurent- Jan  lives  "on  the  fat  of  the  land" 
for  six  months — A  son  of  Napoleon's  companion  in  exile,  General  Ber- 
trand — The  chaplain  of  "  la  Belle- Poule  "^The  first  French  priest  who 
wore  the  English  dress— Horace  Vernet  and  the  veterans  of  "  la  grande 
amiee  " — His  studio  during  their  occupancy  of  it  as  models — His  budget 
— Hia  hatred  of  pitferari — A  professor— The  Quartier-Latin  revisited   .  164 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Louis-Philippe  and  his  family — An  unpublished  theatrical  skit  on  his 
mania  for  shaking  hands  with  everj'  one — His  art  of  governing,  ac- 
cording to  the  same  skit^ — Louis-Philippe  not  the  ardent  admirer  of 
the  bourgeoisie  he  professed  to  be — The  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  de- 
serts the  Tuileries — The  English  in  too  great  a  majority — Lord 'a 

opinion  of  the  dinners  at  the  Tuileries — The  attitude'  of  the  bour- 

feoisie  towards  Louis-Philippe,  according  to  the  King  himself — Louis- 
'hilippe's  wit — His  final  words  on  the  death  of  Talleyrand — His  love 
of  money — He  could  be  generous  at  times — A  story  of  the  Palais-Koyal 
— Louis-Philippe  and  the  Marseillaise — Two  curious  stories  connected 
■with  the  Marseillaise — Who  was  the  composer  of  it  J^LouLs-Philippe's 
opinion  of  the  throne,  the  crown,  and  the  sceptre  of  France  as  ad- 
ditions to  one's  comfort — His  children,  and  especially  his  sons,  take 
things  more  easily — Even  the  Bonapartists  admired  some  of  the  latter 
— A  mot  of  an  Imperialist — How  the  boys  were  brought  up — Their 
nocturnal  rambles  later  on — The  King  himself  does  notseem  to  mind 
those  escapades,  but  is  frightened  at  M.  Guizot  hearing  of  them — Louis- 
Philippe  did  not  understand  Guizot— The  recollection  of  his  former 
misery  frequently  haunts  the  Kinar— He  worries  Queen  Victoria  with 
his  fear  of  becoming  poor — Louis-Philippe  an  excellent  husband  and 
father — He  wants  to  write  the  libretto  of  an  opera  on  an  English  sub- 
ject— His  religion — The  court  receptions  ridiculous — Even  the  prole- 
tariat sneer  at  them — The  entree  ot  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  into  Paris 
—The  scene  in  the  Tuileries  gardens — A  mot  of  Princesse  Clementine 
on  her  fathers  too  paternal  solicitude — A  practical  joke  of  the  Prince 
de  Joinville — His  caricatures  and  drawings — The  children  inherited 
their  talent  for  drawing  and  modelling  from  their  mother — The  Due 
de  Nemours  as  a  miniature  and  water-colour  painter — Suspected  of 
being  a  Legitimist — All  Louis-Philippe's  children  great  patrons  of  art 
— How  the  bourgeoisie  looked  upon  their  intercourse  with  artiste — The 
Due  de  Nemours'  marvellous  memory — The  studio  of  Eugene  Lami — 
His  neighbours,  Paul  Delaroche  and  Honore  de  Balzac — The  Due  de 
Nemours'  bravery  called  in  question — The  Due  d'Aumale's  exploits  in 
Algeria  considered  mere  skirmishes — A  curious  story  of  spiritism— The 
Due  d'Aumale  a  greater  favourite  with  the  world  than  any  of  the  other 
sons  of  Louis-Philippe — His  wit — The  Due  d'Orleans  also  a  great  fa- 
vourite^His  visits  to  Decamps'  studio — An  indifferent  classical  scholar 
— A  curious  kind  of  black-mail — His  indifference  to  money — There 
is  no  money  in  a  Republic — His  death — A  witty  reply  to  the  Le- 
gitimists  185 


CONTENTS.  ix 


CHAPTER  X. 

PAGE 

The  Eevolution  of  '48— The  beginning  of  it— The  National  Guards  in  all 
their  glory — The  Caf^  Gregoire  on  the  Place  du  Cairo — The  price  of  a 
good  breakfast  in  '48 — The  palmy  days  of  the  Cuisine  Bourgeoise — 
The  excitement  on  the  Boulevards  on  Sunday,  February  20th,  '48 — 
The  theatres — A  ball  at  Poii-son's,  tlie  erstwhile  director  of  the  Gym- 
nase — A  lull  in  the  storm — Tuesday,  February  22nd — Another  visit  to 
the  Cafe  Greiroire — On  my  way  thither — The  Comedie-Fran^aise  closes 
its  doors — What  it  means,  according  to  my  old  tutor — We  are  waited 
upon  by  a  sergeant  and  corporal — We  are  no  longer  "  messieurs,"  but 
■  "  citoyens  " — An  eye  to  the  main  clianee — The  patriots  do  a  bit  of  busi- 
ness in  tricolour  cockades— The  company  marches  away — Casualties — 
"  Le  patriotisme  "  means  the  difference  between  the  louis  d'or  and  the 
^cu  of  three  francs — The  company  bivouacs  on  the  Boulevard  Saint- 
Martin — A  tyrant's  victim  '■'•  malgre  luV — Wednesday,  February  23rd 
— Tlie  Cafe  Gregoire  once  more — The  National  Guards  en  neglige — A 
novel  mode  of  settling  accounts — The  National  Guards  fortiiy  the 
inner  man — A  bivouac  on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple — A  camp  scene 
from  an  opera — I  leave— My  companion's  account — The  National 
Guards  protect  the  regulars — The  author  of  these  notes  goes  to  the 
theatre — The  Gymnase  and  the  Varietes  on  the  eve  of  the  Revolution 
— Boutte  and  Dejazet — Thursday,  February  24th,  '48 — The  Boulevards 
at  9.30  a.  m. — No  milk — The  Kevolutionaries  do  without  it— The  Place 
du  CaiTousel — The  sovereign  people  fire  from  the  roofs  on  the  troops 
— The  troops  do  not  dislodge  them — The  King  reviews  the  troops — • 
The  apparent  inactivity  of  Louis-Philippe's  sons — A  theory  about  the 
ditference  in  bloodshed — One  of  the  three  ugliest  men  in  France  comes 
to  see  the  King — Seditious  cries — The  King  abdicates — Chaos — The 
sacking  of  the  Tuileries — Receptions  and  feasting  in  the  Galerie  de 
Diane — "  Du  cafe  pour  nous,  des  cigarettes  pour  les  dames" — The 
dresses  of  the  princesses — The  bourgeois  feast  the  gamins  who  guard 
the  barricades — The  Republic  proclaimed — The  riif-raflF  insist  upon 
illuminations — An  actor  promoted  to  the  Governorship  of  the  Hotel 
de  Ville — Some  members  of  the  "provisional  Government"  at  work — 
Mery  on  Lamartine — Why  the  latter  proclaimed  the  Republic      .        .  208 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Second  Republic — Lamartine's  reason  for  proclaiming  it — Suspects 
Louis-Napoleon  of  similar  motives  for  wishing  to  overthrow  it — Tells 
him  to  go  back  to  England — De  Persigny's  account  Qf  Louis-Napo- 
leon's landing  in  France  after  February  24th,  '48 — Providential  inter- 
ference on  behalf  of  Louis-Napoleon — Justification  of  Louis-Napoleon's 
belief  in  his  "  star" — My  first  meeting  with  him— The  origin  of  a  cele- 
brated nickname— Badinguet  a  creation  of  Gavarni — Louis-Napoleon 
and  his  surroundings  at  the  Hotel  du  Rhin — His  appearance  and  dress 
■ — Lord  Normanby's  opinion  of  his  appearance — Louis-Napoleon's 
French— A  mot  of  Bismarck — Cavaignac,  Thiers,  and  Victor  Hugo's 
wrong  estimate  of  his  character — Cavaignac  and  his  brother  Godefroi 
— Tlie  difterence  between  Thiers  and  General  Cavaignac — An  elector's 
mot — Some  of  the  candidates  for  the  presidency  of  the  Second  Republic 
— Electioneering  expenses — Impecuniosity  of  Louis-Napoleon — A  story 
in  connection  with  it — The  woman  with  the  wooden  legs — Tlie  salons 
during  the  Second  Republic — The  theatres  and  their  skits  on  the 
situation — "La  Propri^te  e'est  le  "Vol" — France  governed  by  the  Na- 
tional— A  curious  list  of  ministers  and  officials  of  the  Second  Repub- 
lic— Armand  Marrast — His  plans  for  reviving  business — His  receptions 


X  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

PAQK 

at  the  Palais-Bourbon  as  President  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies- 
Some  of  the  guests — The  Corps  Diplomatique — The  new  cieputies, 
their  wives  and  daughters 232 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Guizot,  Lamartine,  and  Beranger — Public  opinion  at  sea  with  regard  to  the 
real  Guizot — People  fail  to  see  the  real  man  behind  the  politician — 
Guizot  regrets  this  false  conception — "  I  have  not  the  courage  to  be 
unpopular  " — A  tilt  at  Thiers — My  first  meeting  with  him — A  picture 
and  the  story  connected  with  it — M.  Guizot  "  at  home " — His  apart- 
ment— The  company — M.  Guizot  on  "  the  Spanish  marriages  " — His 
indictment  against  Lord  Palraerston — An  incident  in  connection  with 
Napoleon's  tomb  at  the  Invalides — Nicolas  I.  and  Napoleon — My  sub- 
sequent intimacy  with  M.  Guizot — Guizot  as  a  father — HLs  correspond- 
ence with  his  daughters — A  story  of  Henry  Murgjer  and  Marguerite 
Thuillier — M.  Guizot  makes  up  his  mind  not  to  live  in  Paris  any  longer 
— M.  Guizot  on  "  natural  scenery  " — Never  saw  the  sea  until  he  was 
over  fifty — Why  M.  Guizot  did  not  like  the  country ;  why  M.  Thiers 
did  not  like  it — Thiers  the  only  man  at  whom  Guizot  tilted — M.  Guizot 
died  poor — M.  de  Lamartine's  poverty  did  not  inspire  the  same  re- 
spect— Lamartine's  impecuniosity — My  only  visit  to  Lamartine's  house 
— Du  Jellabv  dore — With  a  difference — All  the  stories  and  anecdotes 
about  M.  de  "Lamartine  relate  to  his  improvidence  and  impecuniosity — 
Ten  times  worse  in  that  respect  than  Balzac — M.  Guizot's  literary  pro- 
ductions and  M.  de  Lamartme's — The  national  subscription  raised  for 
the  latter — How  he  anticipates  some  of  the  money — Beranger — My 
first  acquaintance  with  him — Beranger's  verdict  on  the  Second  Eepub- 
lic — Beranger's  constant  Sittings — Dislikes  popularity — The  true  story 
of  Beranger  and  Mdlle.  Judith  Frere 249 

CHAPTER  Xm. 

Some  men  of  the  Empire — Fialin  de  Persigny — The  public  prosecutor's 
opinion  of  him  expressed  at  the  trial  for  Kigh  treason  in  1836 — Superior 
in  many  respects  to  Louis-Napoleon — The  revival  of  the  Empire  his 
only  and  constant  dream — In  order  to  realize  it,  he  appeals  first  to 
Jerome,  ex-King  of  Westphalia — De  Persigny 's  estimate  of  him — 
Jerome's  greed  and  Louis-Napoleon's  generositv — De  Persigny's  finan- 
cial embarrassments — His  charity — What  the  £mpire  really  meant  to 
him — De  Persigny  virtually  the  movmg  spirit  in  the  Coup  d'Etat — 
Louis-Napoleon  might  have  been  satisfied  with  the  presidency  of  the 
republic  for  life — Persigny  seeks  for  aid  in  England — Palmerston's 
share  in  the  Coup  d'Etat — The  submarine  cable — ^Preparations  for  the 
poup  d'Etat — A  warning  of  it  sent  to  England— Count  Walewski  issues 
invitations  for  a  dinner-party  on  the  2nd  of  December — Opinion  in 
London  that  Louis- Napoleon  will  get  the  worst  in  the  struggle  with 
the  Chamber — The  last  funds  from  London — General  de  Saint-Amaud 
and  Baron  Lacrosse — The  Elysee-Bourbon  on  the  evening  of  the  1st 
of  December — I  pass  the  Elysee  at  midnight — Nothing  unusual — Lon- 
don on  the  2nd  of  December — The  dinner  at  Count  Walewski's  put  oft 
at  the  last  moment — Illuminations  at  the  French  Embassy  a  few  houre 
later — Palmerston  at  the  Embassy— Some  traits  of  De  Persigny's  char- 
acter— His  personal  aff"ection  for  Louis- Napoleon — Madame  de  Per- 
signy— Her  parsimony — Her  cooking  of  the  household  accounts — 
Chevet  and  Madame  de  Persigny — What  the  Empire  might  have  been 
with  a  Von  Moltke  by  the  side  of  the  Emperor  instead  of  Vaillant, 


CONTENTS. 


XI 

PAQB 


Kiel,  and  Leboeuf— Colonel  (afterwards  General)  Fleury  the  only  mod- 
est man  among  the  Emperor's  entourage — De  Persigny's  pretensions 
as  a  Heaven-born  statesman — Mgr.  de  Merode — De  Morny — His  first 
meeting  with  his  half-brother — l)e  Morny  as  a  grand  seigneur — The 
origin  of  the  Mexican  campaign — Walewski — His  fads — Koulier — My 
first  sight  of  him  in  the  Quartier-Latin — The  Emperor's  opinion  of 
him  at  the  beginning  of  his  career — Rouher  in  his  native  home,  Au- 
vergne — His  marriage — Madame  Kouher — His  father-in-law  .        ,        .  261 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Society  during  the  Second  Empire — The  Court  at  Coinpiegne— The  Eng- 
lish element— Their  opinion  of  Louis-Napoleon — The  difference  be- 
tween the  court  of  Louis- Philippe  and  that  of  Napoleon  III. — The 
luggage  of  M.  Villemain — Tlie  hunts  in  Louis-Philippe's  time — Louis- 
Napoleon's  advent — Would  have  made  a  better  poet  than  an  Emperor 
— Looks  for  a  La  Valliere  or  Montespan,  and  finds  Mdlle.  Eugenie  de 
Montijo — The  latter  determined  not  to  be  a  La  Valliere  or  even  a  Pom- 
padour— Has  her  great  destiny  foretold  in  her  youth — Makes  up  her 
mind  that  it  shall  be  realized  by  a  right-handed  and  not  a  left-handed 
marriage — Queen  Victoria  stands  her  sponsor  among  the  sovereigns  of 
Europe — Mdlle.  de  Montijo's  mother — The  Comtesse  de  Montijo  and 
Halevy's  "  Madame  Cardinal " — The  first  invitations  to  Corapiegne — 
Mdlle.  de  Montijo's  backere  for  the  Imperial  stakes — No  other  entries 
— Louis-Napoleon  utters  tlie  word  "  marriage  " — What  led  up  to  it — 
The  Emperor  officially  announces  his  betrothal — The  effect  it  produced 
— The  Faubourg  St.-Germain — Dupin  the  elder  gives  his  views — The 
engaged  couple  feel  very  uncomfortable — Negotiations  to  organize  the 
Empress's  tuture  household — Rebuffs — Louis  Napoleon's  retorts — 
Mdlle.  de  Montijo's  attempt  at  wit  and  sprightliness — Her  iron  will — 
Her  beauty — Her  marriage — She  takes  Marie-Antoinette  for  her  model 
— She  fondly  imagines  tliat  she  was  born  to  rule — She  presumes  to 
teach  Princess  Clotilde  the  etiquette  of  courts — The  story  of  two  de- 
tectives— The  hunts  at  Compiegne — Some  of  the  m^e  en  scene  and 
dramatis  personal — The  shooting-parties — Mrs.  Grundy  not  banished, 
but  speci^ly  invited  and  drugged — The  programme  of  the  gatherings 
— Compiegne  in  the  season — A  story  of  an  Englishman  accommodated 
for  the  night  in  one  of  the  Imperial  luggage-vans 288 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Society  during  the  Empire— The  series  of  guests  at  Compiegne — The  amuse- 
ments— the  absence  of  musical  taste  in  the  Bonapartes — The  pro- 
framme  on  the  first,  second,  third,  and  fourth  days — An  anecdote  of 
,afontaine.  the  actor — Theatrical  performances  and  balls — The  ex- 
penses of  the  same — The  theatre  at  Compiegne — The  guests,  male  and 
female — "  Neck  or  nothing  "  for  the  latter,'  uniform  for  the  former — 
The  rest  have  to  take  "  back  seats  "— TJie  selection  of  guests  among 
the  notabilities  of  Compiegne — A  mayor's  troubles— The  Empress's 
and  the  Emperor's  contiicting  opinions  with  regard  to  female  charms 
— Bassano  in  "  hot  water  " — Tactics  of  the  demi-mondaines — Improve- 
ment from  the  heraldic  point  of  view  in  the  Empress's  entourage — The 
cocodettes — Their  dress — Worth — When  every  pretext  for  a  change  of 
toilette  is  exhausted,  the  court  ladies  turn  themselves  into  ballerinas — 
"Le  Diable  a  Quatre"  at  Compiegne — The  ladies  appear  at  the  ball 
afterwards  in  their  gauze  skirts— The  Emperor's  dictum  with  regard  to 
ballet-dancers  and  men's  infatuation  for  tnem — The  Emperor  did  not 


xii  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


like  stupid  women — The  Emperor's  "  eye "  for  a  handsome  woman — 
The  Empress  does  not  admire  the  instinct — William  I.  of  Prussia  acts 
as  comforter — The  hunt — Actors,  "  supers,"  and  spectators—"  La  Com- 
tesse  d'Escarbagnas  " — The  Imperial  procession — The  Empress's  and 
Emperor's  unpunctuality — Louis-Napoleon  not  a  "  well-dressed  man  " 
— The  Empress  wished  to  get  back  before  dark— The  resison  of  this 
wish — Though  unpunctual,  punctual  on  hunt-days — The  police  meas- 
ures at  those  gatherings — M.  Hyrvoix  and  M.  Boitelle — The  Empress 
did  not  like  the  truth,  the  Emperor  did — Her  anxiety  to  go  to  St. 
Lazare 304 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  story  of  a  celebrated  sculptor  and  his  model — David  d'Angers  at  the 
funeral  of  Cortot,  the  sculptor — How  I  became  acquainted  with  him— 
The  sculptor  leaves  the  funeral  procession  to  speak  to  a  woman— He 
tells  me  the  story — David  d'Angers'  sympathy  with  Greece  in  her 
struggle  for  independence— -When  Botzaris  falls  at  Missolonghi,  he 
makes  up  liis  mind  to  carve  his  monument — Wishes  to  do  something 
original — He  finds  his  idea  in  the  cemetery  of  Pere-la-Chaise — In 
search  of  a  model — Comes  unexpectedly  upon  her  in  the  Eue  du  Mont- 
parnasse,  while  in  company  of  Victor  Huo;o — The  model  and  her 
mother — The  bronze  Christ  on  the  studio  wall — David  gives  it  to  his 
model — The  latter  dismissed — A  plot  against  the  sculptor's  life— His 
model  saves  him — He  tries  to  find  her  and  fails — Only  meets  with  her 
when  walking  behind  the  hearee  of  Cortot — She  appears  utterly  desti- 
tute— Loses  sight  of  her  again — Meets  her  on  the  outer  boulevards 
with  a  nondescript  of  the  worst  character — He  endeavours  to  rescue 
her.  but  fails — Canler,  of  the  Paris  police,  reveals  the  tactics  pursued 
witn  regard  to  "  unfortunates  " — David's  exile  and  death — The  Botzaris 
Monument  is  brought  back  to  Paris  to  be  restored — The  model  at  the 
door  of  the  exhibition — Her  death 323 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Queen  Victoria  in  Paris — The  beginning  of  the  era  of  middle-class  excur- 
sions— English  visitors  before  that — The  British  tourist  of  1855 — The 
real  revenge  of  Waterloo — The  Englishman's  French  and  the  French- 
man's Eng^lish — The  opening  of  the  Exhibition — The  lord  mayor  and 
aldermen  in  Paris — The  King  of  Portugal — All  these  considered  so 
much  "  small  fry  " — Napoleon  III.  goes  to  Boulogne  to  welcome  the 
Queen — The  royal  yacht  is  delayed — The  French  hotel  proprietor  the 

freatest  artist  in  fleecing— The  Italian,  the  Swiss,  the  German,  mere 
unglers  in  comparison— Napoleon  III.  before  the  arrival  of  the  Queen 
— Pondering  the  past — Arrival  of  the  Queen — The  Queen  lands,  fol- 
lowed by  Prince  Albert  and  the  royal  children — The  Emperor  rides 
by  the  side  of  her  carriage — Comments  of  the  population — An  old  salt 
on  the  situation— An  old  soldier's  retort — The  general  feeling — Arrival 
in  Paris — The  Parisians'  reception  of  the  Queen — A  description  of  the 
route — The  apartments  of  the  Queen  at  St.  Cloud — How  the  Queen 
spent  Sunday — Visits  the  art  section  of  the  Exhibition  on  Monday — 
Ingres  and  Horace  Vemet  presented  to  her — Frenchmen's  ignorance 
of  English  art  in  those  days — English  and  French  art  critics — The 
Queen  takes  a  carriage  drive  through  Paris — Not  a  single  crv  of"  Vive 
I'Angleterre  I "  a  great  many  of  "  Vive  la  Keine" — England  making  a 
cats-paw  of  France — Keception  at  the  Elysee-Bourbon — "  Les  Demoi- 
selles de  Saint-Cyr"  at  St.   Cloud — Alexandre  Dumas  would  have 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

PAGE 

liked  to  see  the  Queen — Visit  to  Versailles — State-performances  at  the 
Opera — Ball  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville — The  Queen's  dancing — Canrobert 
on  "  the  Queen's  dancing  and  her  soldiers'  fighting  " — Another  visit  to 
the  Exhibition — Beranger  misses  seeing  the  Queen — "  I  am  not  going 
to  see  the  Queen,  but  the  woman  " — A  review  in  the  Champ-de-Mars 
— A  visit  to  Napoleon's  tomb — Jerome's  absence  on  the  plea  of  illness 
— Marshal  Vaillant's  reply  to  the  Emperor  when  the  latter  invites  him 
to  take  Jerome's  place — His  comments  on  the  receptions  given  by  the 
Emperor  to  foreign  sovereigns — Fetes  at  Vei-sailles — Homeward    .        .  336 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Marshal  Vaillant — The  beginning  of  our  acquaintance — His  stories  of  the 
swashbucklers  of  the  First  Empire,  and  the  beaux  of  the  Kestauration 
— Kabelaisian,  but  clever — Marshal  Vaillant  neither  a  swashbuckler 
nor  a  beau;  hated  both — Never  cherished  tlie  slightest  illusions  about 
the  efficiency  of  the  French  army — Acknowledged  himself  unable  to 
effect  the  desired  and  necessary  reforms— To  do  that,  a  minister  of  war 
must  become  a  fixture — Why  he  stayed — Careful  of  the  public  moneys, 
and  of  the  Emperor's  also — Napoleon  III.'s  lavishness — An  instance  of 
it — Vaillant  never  dazzled  by  the  grandeur  of  court  entertainments — 
Not  dazzled  by  anything — His  hatred  of  wind-bags — Prince  de  Canine 
— Matutinal  interviews — Prince  de  Canino  sends  his  seconds — Vaillant 
declines  the  meeting,  and  gives  his  reason — Vaillant  abrupt  at  tlie  best 
of  times — A  freezing  reception — A  comic  interview — Attempts  to  shirk 
military  duty — Tricks — Mistakes — A  story  in  point — More  tricks — 
Sham  ailments:  how  the  marshal  dealt  with  them — When  the  marshal 
was  not  in  an  amiable  mood — Another  interview — Vaillant's  tactics — 

"  D d  annoying  to  be  wrong  " — The  marshal  fond  of  science — A 

very  interesting  scientiiic  phenomenon  himself— Science  under  the 
later  Bourbons — Suspicion  of  the  soldiers  of  the  Empire — The  priest- 
hood and  the  police — The  most  godless  republic  preferable  to  a  con- 
tinuance of  their  regime— The  marshal's  dog,  Brusca — Her  dislike  to 
civilians — Brusca's  chastity— Vaillant's  objection  to  insufficiently  pre- 
paid letters — His  habit  of  missing  the  train,  notwithstanding  his  pre- 
cautions— His  objection  to  fuss  and  public  honours 851 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Franco-German  War— Friday,  July  15, 1870,  6  p.  m. — My  friends  "  con- 
fident of  France  being  able  to  chastise  the  insolence  of  the  King  of 
Pnissia" — I  do  not  share  their  confidence;  but  do  not  expect  a  crush- 
ing defeat — Napoleon  III.'s  presence  aggravated  the  disasters;  his 
absence  would  not  have  averted  them — He  himself  had  no  illusions 
about  the  efficiency  of  the  army,  did  not  suspect  the  rottenness  of  it — 
His  previous  endeavours  at  reorganization — The  real  drift  of  his  pro- 
•  posed  inauiries — His  plan  meant  also  compulsory  service  for  every  one 
— Why  tne  legislature  opposed  it — The  makeshift  proposed  by  it — 
Napoleon  weary,  body  and  soul — His  physical  condition — A  great  con- 
sultation and  the  upshot  of  it — -Dr.  Kicor'd  and  what  he  told  me — I  am 
determined  to  see  and  hear,  though  not  to  speak — I  sally  forth — The 
streets  on  the  evening  of  Friday,  the  15th  of  July — The  illuminations 
— Patriotism  or  Chaiivinism — The  announcement  of  a  bookseller — 
What  Moltke  thought  of  it — The  opinion  of  a  dramatist  on  the  war — 
The  people ;  no  horse-play — No  work  done  on  Saturday  and  Sunday 
— Cabmen  — "A  man  does  not  pay  for  his  own  funeral,  monsieur" — 
The  northern  station  on  Sunday — The  departing  Germans — The  Em- 


xiv  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

FJlQS 

peror's  particular  instructions  with  regard  to  them — Alfred  de  Musset's 
"  Khin  Allemand  " — rr^vost-Paradol  and  the  news  of  his  suicide — The 
probable  cause  of  it — A  chat  with  a  superior  officer — The  Emperor's 
Sunday  receptions  at  the  Tuileries — Promotions  in  the  army,  upon 
what  basis — Good  and  bad  officers — The  officers'  mess  does  not  exist — 
Another  general  officer  gives  his  opinion — Marshal  Kiel  and  Leboeuf 
— The  plan  of  campaign  suddenly  altered — The  reason — The  Emperor 
leaves  St.  Cloud — His  contidence  shaken  before  then — Some  telegrams 
from  the  commanders  of  divisions — Thiers  is  appealed  to,  to  stem  the 
tide  of  retrenchment;  afterwards  to  take  the  portfolio  of  war — The 
Emperor's  opinion  persistently  disregarded  at  the  Tuileries — Trochu — 
The  dancing  colonels  at  the  Tuileries 367 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  war — Eeaction  before  the  Emperor's  departure — The  moral  effects  of 
the  publication  of  the  draft  treaty — "Bismarck  has  done  the  Em- 
peror"— The  Parisians  did  not  like  the  Empress — The  latter  always 
anxious  to  assume  the  regency — A  retrospect — Crimean  war — The  Em- 
press and  Queen  Victoria — Solferino — The  regency  of  '65 — Bismarck's 
millinery  bills — Lord  Lyons — Bismarck  and  the  Due  de  Gramont — 
Lord  Lyons  does  not  foresee  war — The  republicans  and  the  war — The 
Empress — Two  ministerial  councils  and  their  consequences — Mr.  Pres- 
cott-Hewett  sent  for — Joseph  Ferrari,  the  Italian  philosopher — The 
Empress — The  ferment  in  Paris — "  Too  much  prologue  to  '  The  Tam- 
ing of  the  German  Shrew ' " — The  first  engagement — The  "  Marseil- 
laise"— An  infant  performer — The  "Marseillaise"  at  the  Comedie- 
Fran9aise — The  "  Marseillaise"  by  command  of  the  Emperor — A  patri- 
otic ballet — The  courtesy  of  the  French  at  Fontenoy — The  Caf^  de  la 
Paix — General  Beaufort  d'Hautpoul  and  Moltke — J^ewspaper  corre- 
spondents— Edmond  About  tells  a  story  about  one  of  his  colleagues — 
News  supplied  by  the  Government — What  it  amounted  to — The  infor- 
mation it  gave  to  the  enemy — Bazaine,  "  the  glorious"  one — Palikao — 
The  fall  of  the  Empire  does  not  date  from  Sedan,  but  from  Woerth 
and  Speicheren — Those  who  dealt  it  the  heaviest  blow — The  Empress, 
the  Empress,  and  no  one  but  the  Empress 385 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  4th  of  September— A  comic,  not  a  tragic  revolution— A  burlesque 
Harold  and  a  burlesque  Boadicea— The  news  of  Sedan  only  known 
publicly  on  the  3rd  of  September— Grief  and  consternation,  but  no  rage 
—The  latter  feeling  imported  by  the  bands  of  Delescluze,  Blanqui, 
and  Felix  Pyat^Blanqui,  Pyat,  &  Co.  versus  Favre,  Gambetta,  &  Co. 
—The  former  want  their  share  of  the  spoil,  and  only  ^et  it  some  years 
afterwards— Ramail  goes  to  the  Palais-Bourbon— His  report— Paris 
spends  the  night  outdoors— Thiers  a  second-rate  Talleyrand— Hisjour- 
ney  to  the  different  courts  of  Europe — His  interview  with  Lord  Gran- 
ville—The  4th  of  September— The  Imperial  eagles  disappear— The 
joyousness  of  the  crowd — The  Place  de  la  Concorde — The  gardens  of 
the  Tuileries — The  crowds  in  the  Rue  de  Eivoli  scarcely  pay  attention 
to  the  Tuileries — The  soldiers  fraternizing  with  the  people,  and  pro- 
claiming the  republic  from  the  barracks'  windows — A  serious  proces- 
sion— Sampierro  Gavini  gives  his  opinion — The  "  heroic  struggles  "  of  an 
Empress,  and  the  crownless  coronation  of  "  le  Roi  P^taud  " — Ramail  at 
the  Tuileries — How  M.  Sardou  saved  the  palace  from  being  burned  and 
sacked — The  republic  proclaimed — Illummations  as  after  a  victory       .  404 


CONTENTS.  XV 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

PAGE 

The  siege — The  Parisians  convinced  that  the  Germans  will  not  invest 
Paris — Paris  becomes  a  vast  drill-ground,  nevertheless — The  Parisians 
leave  oft  singing,  but  listen  to  itinerant  performers,  though  the  latter 
no  longer  sin^  the  "  Marseillaise  " — The  theatres  closed — The  Comedie- 
Fran^aise  and  the  Opera — Influx  of  the  Gardes  Mobiles — The  Parisian 
no  longer  chaffs  the  provincial,  but  does  the  honours  of  the  city  to 
him — The  stolid,  gaunt  Breton  and  the  astute  and  cynical  Normand — 
The  gardens  of  the  Tuileries  an  artillery  park — The  mitrailleuse  still 
commands  confidence — The  papers  try  to  be  comic — Food  may  fail, 
drink  will  not — My  visit  to  the  wine  depot  at  Bercy — An  official's  in- 
formation— ^Cattle  in  the  public  squares  and  on  the  outer  Boulevards 
— Fear  with  regard  to  them — Every  man  canies  a  rifle — The  woods  in 
the  suburbs  are  set  on  fire — The  statue  of  Strasburg  on  the  Place  de  la 
Concorde — M.  Prudhomrae  to  his  sons — The  men  who  do  not  spout — 
The  French  shopkeeper  and  bourgeois — A  story  of  his  greed — He 
reveals  the  whereabouts  of  the  cable  laid  on  the  bed  of  the  Seine- 
Obscure  heroes — Would-be  Ravaillacs  and  Balthazar  Gerards — In- 
ventore  of  schemes  for  the  instant  annihilation  of  all  the  Germans — A 
musical  mitrailleuse — An  exhibition  and  lecture  at  the  Alcazar — The 
last  train — Trains  converted  into  dwellings  for  the  suburban  poor — 
Interior  of  a  railway  station — The  spy  mania — Where  the  Parisians 
ought  to  have  looked  for  spies — I  am  arrested  as  a  spy — A  chat  with 
the  officer  in  charge — A  terrible-looking  knife 414 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  siege— The  food-supply  of  Paris— How  and  what  the  Parisians  eat 
and  drink — Bread,  meat,  and  wine— Alcoholism — The  waste  among 
the  London  poor— The  French  take  a  lesson  from  the  alien— The  Irish 
at  La  Villette — A  whisper  of  the  horses  being  doomed— M.  Gagne — 
The  various  attempts  to  introduce  horseflesh — The  journals  deliver 
their  opinions— The  supply  of  horseflesh  as  it  stood  in  '70— The  Acad- 
emic des  Sciences — Gelatine— Kitchen  gardens  on  the  balcony— M. 
Lockroy's  experiment^M.  Pierre  Joigneux  and  the  Englishman— If 
cabbages,  why  not  mushrooms  ?— There  is  still  a  kitchen  garden  left- 
Cream  cheese  from  the  moon,  to  be  fetched  by  Garabetta— His  departure 
in  a  balloon— Nadar  and  Napoleon  III.— Carrier-pigeons— An  aerial 
telegraph— Otters  to  cross  the  Prussian  lines— The  theatres— A  per- 
formance at  the  Cirque  National—"  Le  Roi  s'amuse,"  at  the  Theatre 
de  Montmartre— A  dejeuner  at  Durand's— Weber  and  Beethoven- 
Long  winter  nights  without  fuel  or  gas— The  price  of  provisions— The 
Parisian's  good-humour— His  wit— The  greed  of  the  shopkeeper- 
Culinary  literature— More's  '■  Utopia"— An  ex-lieutenant  or  the  For- 
eign Legion— He  gives  us  a  breakfast— He  delivers  a  lecture  on  food- 
Joseph,  nis  servant— Milk— The  slender  resources  of  the  poor— I  in- 
terview an  employ^  of  the  State  Pawnshop— Statistics— Hidden  pro- 
visions—Bread—Prices of  provisions— New  Year's  Day,  and  New  Year's 
dinners— The  bombardment— No  more  bread— The  end  of  the  siege     .  429 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Some  men  of  the  Commune— Cluseret — His  opinion  of  Rossel — His  opinion 
of  Bergeret— What  Cluseret  was  fighting  for— Thiers  and  Abraham 
Lincoln— Raoul  Rigault  on  horseback — Th^ophile  Ferrd — Ferr^  and 
Gil-P^res,  the  actor — The  comic  men  of  the  Commune — Gambon — 


xvi  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


Jourde,  one  of  the  most  valuable  of  the  lot — His  financial  abilities — 
His  endeavours  to  save — Jourde  at  Godillot's — Colonel  Maxime  Lis- 
bonne — The  Editor's  recollection3  of  him — General  Dombrowski  and 
General  la  Cecilia — A  soiree  at  the  Tuileries — A  gala-performance  at 
the  Op6ra  Comique — The  death-knell  of  the  Commime ....  462 


AN  ENGLISHMAN   IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Quartier-Latin  in  the  late  thirties— The  difference  between  then  and  now 
— A  caricature  on  the  walls  of  Paris — I  am  anxious  to  be  introduced  to  the 
quarter  whence  it  emanated— I  am  taken  to  "  La  Childebert,"  and  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  original  of  the  caricature — The  story  of  Bou^inier  and 
hLs  nose — Dantan  as  a  caricaturist — He  abandons  that  branch  ot  art  after 
he  has  made  Madame  Malibran  burst  into  tears  at  the  sight  of  her  statuette 
— IIow  Bouginier  came  to  be  immortalized  on  the  facade  of  the  Passage  du 
Cairc— One  of  the  first  co-operative  societies  in  France— An  artists'  hive — 
The  origin  of"  La  Childebert"— Its  tenants  in  my  time— The  proprietress 
— Madame  Clianfort,  the  providence  of  poor  painters— Her  portraits  sold 
after  her  deatli— High  jinks  at  "La  Childebert  "—The  Childebertians  and 
their  peacefully  inclined  neighbours — Gratuitous  baths  and  compulsory 
douches  at  "La'  Childebert"— The  proprietress  is  called  upon  to  repair  the 
roof— The  Childebertians  bivouac  on  the  Place  St.  Germain-des-Pres — 
They  start  a  "  Society  for  the  Conversion  of  the  Mahometans" — The  pub- 
lic subscribe  liberally — What  becomes  of  the  subscriptions  ?— My  visits  to 
"La  Childebert"  breed  a  taste  for  the  other  amusements  of  the  Quartier- 
Latin — Bobino  and  its  entertainments — The  audience — The  manager — His 
stereotyped  speech — The  reply  in  chorus — Woe  to  the  bourgeois-intruder 
— Sto\'e-pipe  hats  a  rarity  in  the  Quartier-Latin — The  dress  of  the  col- 
legians— Their  mode  of  living — Suppers  when  money  was  Hush,  rolls  and 
milk  when  it  was  not — A  fortune-teller  in  the  Rue  de  Tournon — Her  pre- 
diction as  to  the  future  of  Josephine  de  Beauharnais — The  allowance  to 
students  in  those  days — The  Odeon  deserted — Students'  habits — The  Chau- 
miere — Bural  excursions — Pere  Bonvin's. 

LoxG  before  Baron  Haussmann  began  his  architectural 
transformation,  many  parts  of  Paris  had  undergone  changes, 
perceptible  only  to  those  who  had  been  brought  up  among 
the  inhabitants,  though  distinct  from  them  in  nationality, 
education,  habits,  and  tastes.  Paris  became  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, and  not  altogether  voluntarily,  cosmopolitan  before  the 
palatial  mansions,  the  broad  avenues,  the  handsome  public 
squares  which  subsequently  excited  the  admiration  of  the 
civilized  world  had  been  dreamt  of,  and  while  its  outer  as- 
pect was  as  yet  scarcely  modified.  This  was  mainly  due  to 
the  establishment  of  railways,  which  caused  in  the  end 
large  influxes  of  foreigners  and  provincials,  who  as  it  were 
1  (1) 


2  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

drove  the  real  Parisian  from  his  haunts.  Those  visitors 
rarely  penetrated  in  large  numbers  to  the  very  heart  of  the 
Quartier-ljatin.  When  they  crossed  the  bridges  that  span  the 
Seine,  it  was  to  see  the  Sorbonne,  the  Pantheon,  the  Observ- 
atory, the  Odeon,  and  the  Luxembourg ;  they  rarely  stayed 
after  nightfall.  The  Prado,  the  Theatre  Bobino,  the  stu- 
dents' taverns,  escaped  their  observation  when  there  was 
really  something  to  see ;  and  now,  when  the  Closerie  des 
Lilas  has  become  the  Bal  BuUier,  when  the  small  theatre  has 
been  demolished,  and  when  the  taverns  are  in  no  way  distin- 
guished from  other  Parisian  taverns — when,  in  short,  com- 
monplace pervades  the  whole — people  flock  thither  very 
often.  But  during  the  whole  of  the  forties,  and  even  later, 
the  vive  gauche^  with  its  Quartier-Latin  and  adjacent  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain,  were  almost  entirely  sacred  from  the 
desecrating  stare  of  the  deliberate  sightseer ;  and,  conse- 
quently, the  former  especially,  preserved  its  individuality, 
not  only  materially,  but  mentally  and  morally — immorally 
would  perhaps  have  been  the  word  that  would  have  risen  to 
the  lips  of  the  observer  who  lacked  the  time  and  inclination 
to  study  the  life  led  there  deeper  than  it  appeared  merely  on 
the  surface.  For  though  there  was  a  good  deal  of  royster- 
ing  and  practical  joking,  and  short-lasted  liaison,  there  was 
little  of  deliberate  vice,  of  strategic  libertinism — if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  coin  the  expression.  True,  every  Jack  had  his 
Jill,  but,  as  a  rule,  it  was  Jill  who  had  set  the  ball  rolling. 

The  Quartier-Latin  not  only  sheltered  sucking  lawyers 
and  doctors,  budding  professors  and  savans  and  litterateurs, 
but  artists  whose  names  have  since  then  become  world-re- 
nowned. It  was  with  some  of  these  that  I  was  most  thrown 
in  contact  in  that  quarter,  partly  from  inclination,  because 
from  my  earliest  youth  I  have  been  fonder  of  pictures  than 
of  books,  partly  because  at  that  time  I  had  already  seen  so 
many  authors  of  fame,  most  of  whom  were  the  intimate  ac- 
quaintances of  a  connection  of  mine,  that  I  cared  little  to 
seek  the  society  of  those  who  had  not  arrived  at  that  stage. 
I  was  very  young,  and,  though  not  devoid  of  faith  in  possi- 
bilities, too  mentally  indolent  when  judgment  in  that  respect 
involved  the  sitting  down  to  manuscripts.  It  was  so  much 
easier  and  charming  to  be  able  to  discover  a  budding  genius 
by  a  mere  glance  at  a  good  sketch,  even  when  the  latter  was 
drawn  in  charcoal  on  a  not  particularly  clean  "  whitewashed  " 
wall. 


THE  QUARTIER-LATIN  IN  THE  FORTIES.  3 

I  was  scarcely  more  than  a  stripling  when  one  morning 
such  a  sketch  appeared  on  the  walls  of  Paris,  and  consider- 
ably mystified,  while  it  at  the  same  time  amused  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  capital.  It  was  not  the  work  of  what  we  in  Eng- 
land would  call  a  "  seascape  and  mackerel  artist,"  for  no  such 
individual  stood  by  to  ask  toll  of  the  admirers ;  it  was  not  an 
advertisement,  for  in  those  days  that  mode  of  mural  publicity 
was  scarcely  born,  let  alone  in  its  infancy,  in  Paris.  What, 
then,  Avas  this  colossal,  monumental  nose,  the  like  of  which 
I  have  only  seen  on  the  faces  of  four  human  beings,  one  of 
whom  was  Hyacinth,  the  famous  actor  of  the  Palais-Royal, 
the  other  three  being  M,  d'Argout,  the  Governor  of  the  Bank 
of  France ;  M.  de  Jussieu,  the  Director  of  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes ;  and  Lasailly,  Balzac's  secretary  ?  What  was  this 
colossal  nose,  with  a  ridiculously  small  head  and  body  at- 
tached to  it  ?  The  nasal  organ  was  certainly  phenomenal, 
even  allowing  for  the  permissible  exaggeration  of  the  carica- 
turist, but  it  could  surely  not  be  the  only  title  of  its  owner  to 
this  sudden  leap  into  fame !  Was  it  a  performing  nose,  or 
one  endowed  with  extraordinary  powers  of  smell  ?  I  puzzled 
over  the  question  for  several  days,  until  one  morning  I  hap- 
pened to  run  against  my  old  tutor,  looking  at  the  picture 
and  laughing  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks. 
It  was  a  positive  pleasure  to  see  him.  "  C'est  bien  lui,  c'est 
bien  lui,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  c'est  absolument  son  portrait 
crache  !"  "  Do  you  know  the  original?"  I  asked.  "Mais, 
sans  doute,  je  le  connais,  c'est  un  ami  de  mon  fils,  du  reste, 
toute  le  monde  connait  Bouginier."  "  But  I  do  not  know 
him,"  I  protested,  feeling  very  much  ashamed  of  my  igno- 
rance. "  Ah,  you  !  that's  quite  a  different  thing ;  you  do  not 
live  in  the  Quartier-Latin,  but  everybody  there  knows  him." 
From  that  moment  I  knew  no  rest  until  I  had  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Bouginier,  which  was  not  very  difficult ;  and 
through  him  I  became  a  frequent  visitor  to  "  La  Childebert," 
which  deserves  a  detailed  description,  because,  though  it  was 
a  familiar  haunt  to  many  Parisians  of  my  time  with  a  taste 
for  Bohemian  society,  I  doubt  whether  many  Englishmen, 
save  (the  late)  Mr.  Blanchard  Jerrold  and  one  of  the  May- 
hews,  ever  set  foot  there,  and  even  they  could  not  have  seen 
it  in  its  prime. 

But  before  I  deal  with  "  La  Childebert,"  I  must  say  a  few 
words  about  Bouginier,  who,  contrary  to  my  expectations, 
owed  his  fame  solely  to  his  proboscis.      He  utterly  disap- 


4  AN  ENGLISHMAN   IN  PARIS. 

peared  from  the  artistic  horizon  in  a  few  years,  but  his  feat- 
ures still  live  in  the  memory  of  those  who  knew  him  through 
a  statuette  in  terra  cotta  modelled  by  Dantan  the  younger. 
During  the  reign  of  Louis-Philippe,  Dantan  took  to  that 
branch  of  art  as  a  relaxation  from  his  more  serious  work  ;  he 
finally  abandoned  it  after  he  had  made  Madame  Malibran 
burst  into  tears,  instead  of  making  her  laugh,  as  he  intended, 
at  her  own  caricature.  Those  curious  in  such  matters  may 
see  Bouginier's  presentment  in  a  medallion  on  the  frontis- 
piece of  the  Passage  du  Cairo,  amidst  the  Egyptian  divinities 
and  sphinxes.  As  a  matter  of  course,  the  spectator  asks 
himself  why  this  modern  countenance  should  find  itself  in 
such  incongruous  company,  and  he  conies  almost  naturally 
to  the  conclusion  that  Bouginier  was  the  owner,  or  perhaps 
the  architect,  of  this  arcade,  almost  exclusively  tenanted — 
until  very  recently — by  lithographers,  printers,  etc.  The 
conclusion,  however,  would  be  an  erroneous  one.  Bouginier, 
as  far  as  is  known,  never  had  any  property  in  Paris  or  else- 
where ;  least  of  all  was  he  vain  enough  to  perpetuate  his  own 
features  in  that  manner,  even  if  he  had  had  an  opportunity, 
but  he  had  not ;  seeing  that  he  was  not  an  architect,  but 
simply  a  painter,  of  no  great  talents  certainly,  but,  withal, 
modest  and  sensible,  and  as  such  opposed  to,  or  at  any  rate 
not  sharing,  the  crazes  of  mediaevalism,  romanticism,  and 
other  isms  in  which  the  young  painters  of  that  day  indulged, 
and  which  they  thought  fit  to  emphasize  in  public  and  among 
one  another  by  eccentricities  of  costume  and  language,  sup- 
posed to  be  in  harmony  with  the  periods  they  had  adopted 
for  illustration.  This  absence  of  enthusiasm  one  way  or  the 
other  aroused  the  ire  of  his  fellow-lodgers  at  the  "'Childe- 
bert,"  and  one  of  them,  whose  pencil  was  more  deft  at  that 
kind  of  work  than  those  of  the  others,  executed  their  ven- 
geance, and  drew  Bouginier's  picture  on  the  "  fag  end  "  of  a 
dead  wall  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Church  of  St.  Germain-des- 
Pres.  The  success  was  instantaneous  and  positively  over- 
whelming, though  truth  compels  one  to  state  that  this  was 
the  only  flash  of  genius  that  illumined  that  young  fellow's 
career.  His  name  was  Fourreau,  and  one  looks  in  vain  for 
his  name  in  the  biographical  dictionaries  or  encyclopedias  of 
artists.  Fate  has  even  been  more  cruel  to  him  than  to  his 
model 

For  the  moment,  however,  the  success,  as  I  have  already 
said,  was  overwhelming.     In  less  than  a  fortnight  there  was 


THE  CHILDEBERTIANS   ON  THEIR  TRAVELS.  5 

not  a  single  wall  in  Paris  and  its  outskirts  without  a  Bouginier 
on  its  surface.  Though  Paris  was  considerably  less  in  area 
than  it  is  now,  it  wanted  a  Herculean  effort  to  accomplish 
this.  No  man,  had  he  been  endowed  with  as  many  arms  as 
Briareus,  would  have  sufficed  for  it.  Nor  would  it  have  done 
to  trust  to  more  or  less  skilful  copyists — they  might  have 
failed  to  catch  the  likeness,  which  was  really  an  admirable 
one ;  so  the  following  device  was  hit  upon.  Fourreau  himself 
cut  a  number  of  stencil  plates  in  brown  paper,  and,  provided 
with  them,  an  army  of  Childebertians  started  every  night  in 
various  directions,  Fourreau  and  a  few  undoubtedly  clever 
youths  heading  the  detachments,  and  filling  in  the  blanks  by 
hand. 

Meanwhile  summer  had  come,  and  with  it  the  longing 
among  the  young  Tintos  to  breathe  the  purer  air  of  the 
country,  to  sniff  the  salt  breezes  of  the  ocean.  As  a  matter 
of  course,  they  were  not  all  ready  to  start  at  the  same  time, 
but  being  determined  to  follow  the  same  route,  to  assemble 
at  a  common  goal,  the  contingent  that  was  to  leave  a  fort- 
night later  than  the  first  arranged  to  join  the  others  wherever 
they  might  be. 

"  But  how  ? "  was  the  question  of  those  who  were  left 
behind.  "  Very  simply  indeed,"  was  the  answer ;  "  we'll  go  by 
the  Barriere  d'ltalie.  You'll  have  but  to  look  at  the  walls 
along  the  road,  and  you'll  find  your  waybill." 

So  said,  so  done.  A  fortnight  after,  the  second  division 
left  head-quarters  and  made  straight  for  the  Barriere  d'ltalie. 
But  when  outside  the  gates  they  stood  undecided.  For  one 
moment  only.  The  next  they  caught  sight  of  a  magnificent 
Bouginier  on  a  wall  next  to  the  excise  office — of  a  Bouginier 
whose  outstretched  index  pointed  to  the.  Fontainebleau  road. 
After  that,  all  went  well.  As  far  as  Marseilles  their  Bougi- 
nier no  more  failed  them  than  the  clouds  of  smoke  and  fire 
failed  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness.  At  the  seaport  town 
they  lost  the  track  for  a  little  while,  rather  through  their  want 
of  faith  in  the  ingenuity  of  their  predecessors  than  through 
the  latter's  lack  of  such  ingenuity.  They  had  the  Mediter- 
ranean in  front  of  them,  and  even  if  they  found  a  Bouginier 
depicted  somewhere  on  the  shore,  his  outstretched  index 
could  only  point  to  the  restless  waves ;  he  could  do  nothing 
more  definite.  Considerably  depressed,  they  were  going 
down  the  Cannebiere,  when  they  caught  sight  of  the  features  of 
their  guiding  star  on  a  panel  between  the  windows  of  a  ship- 


6  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

ping  office.  His  outstretched  index  did  not  point  this  time ;  it 
was  placed  over  a  word,  and  that  word  spelt  "  Malta."  They 
took  ship  as  quickly  as  possible  for  the  ancient  habitation  of 
the  Knights-Templars.  On  the  walls  of  the  Customs  in  the 
island  was  Bouginier,  with  a  scroll  issuing  from  his  nostrils, 
on  which  was  inscribed  the  word  "  Alexandria."  A  similar 
indication  met  their  gaze  at  the  Pyramids,  and  at  last  the 
second  contingent  managed  to  come  up  with  the  first  amidst 
the  ruins  of  Thebes  at  the  very  moment  when  the  word 
"  Suez  "  was  being  traced  as  issuing  from  Bouginier's  mouth. 

Among  the  company  was  a  young  fellow  of  the  name  of 
Berthier,  who  became  subsequently  an  architect  of  some  note. 
The  Passage  du  Cairo,  as  I  have  already  observed,  was  in 
those  days  the  head-quarters  of  the  lithographic-printing  busi- 
ness in  general,  but  there  was  one  branch  which  flourished 
more  than  the  rest,  namely,  that  of  lettres  de  faire  part^ 
menus  of  restaurants  and  visiting-cards.  The  two  first- 
named  documents  were,  in  common  with  most  printed  matter 
intended  for  circulation,  subject  to  a  stamp  duty,  but  in  the 
early  days  of  the  Second  Empire  Louis-Napoleon  had  it  taken 
oS.  To  mark  their  sense  of  the  benefit  conferred,  the  litho- 
graphic firms  f  determined  to  have  the  arcade,  which  stood 
in  sad  need  of  repair,  restored,  and  Berthier  was  selected  for 
the  task.  The  passage  was  originally  built  to  commemorate 
Bonaparte's  victories  in  Egypt,  and  when  Berthier  received 
the  commission,  he  could  think  of  no  more  fitting  fa9ade 
than  the  reproduction  of  a  house  at  Karnac.  He  fondly  re- 
membered his  youthful  excursion  to  the  land  of  Pharaohs, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  image  of  Bouginier  uprose  before 
him.  That  is  why  the  presentment  of  the  latter  may  be  seen 
up  to  this  day  on  the  frieze  of  a  building  in  the  frowsiest 
part  of  Paris. 

If  I  have  dwelt  somewhat  longer  on  Bouginier  than  the 
importance  of  the  subject  warranted,  it  was  mainly  to  convey 
an  idea  of  the  spirit  of  mischief,  of  the  love  of  practical  jok- 
ing, that  animated  most  of  the  inmates  of  "  La  Childebert." 


*  The  "lettre  de  fiiire  part"  is  an  intimation  of  a  hirth,  marriage,  or  death 
sent  to  the  friends,  and  even  mere  acquaintances,  of  a  family. — Editor. 

t  The  lithographers  were  almost  the  first  in  France  to  form  a  co-operative 
society,  but  not  in  the  sense  of  the  Kochdale  pioneers,  which  dates  from  about 
the  same  period.  The  Lacrampe  Association  was  for  supplying  lithographic 
work.  It  began  in  the  Passage  du  Cairo  with  ten  members,  and  in  a  short  time 
numbered  two  hundred  workmen. — Editor. 


THE  POOR  PAINTERS'  PROVIDENCE.  7 

As  a  rule  their  devilries  were  innocent  enough.  The  pic- 
torial persecution  of  Bouginier  is  about  the  gravest  thing 
that  could  be  laid  to  their  charge,  and  the  victim,  like  the 
sensible  fellow  he  was,  rather  enjoyed  it  than  otherwise. 
Woe,  however,  to  the  starched  bourgeois  who  had  been  de- 
coyed into  their  lair,  or  even  to  the  remonstrating  comrade 
with  a  serious  turn  of  mind,  who  wished  to  pursue  his  studies 
in  peace !  His  life  was  made  a  burden  to  him,  for  the  very 
building  lent  itself  to  all  sorts  of  nocturnal  surprises  and  of 
guerilla  sorties.  Elsewhere,  when  a  man's  door  was  shut,  he 
might  reasonably  count  ujjon  a  certain  amount  of  privacy ; 
the  utmost  his  neighbours  could  do  was  to  make  a  noise  over- 
head or  by  his  side.  At  the  "  Childebert  "  such  privacy  was 
out  of  the  question.  There  was  not  a  door  that  held  on  its 
hinges,  not  a  window  that  could  be  opened  or  shut  at  will, 
not  a  ceiling  that  did  not  threaten  constantly  to  crush  you 
beneath  its  weight,  not  a  floor  that  was  not  in  danger  of  giv- 
ing way  beneath  you  and  lauding  you  in  the  room  below,  not 
a  staircase  that  did  not  shake  under  your  very  steps,  however 
light  they  might  be;  in  short,  the  place  was  a  wonderful 
illustration  of  "  how  the  rotten  may  hold  together,"  even  if  it 
be  not  gently  handled. 

The  origin  of  the  structure,  as  it  stood  then,  was  wrapt  in 
mystery.  It  was  five  or  six  stories  high,  and  must  have  at- 
tained that  altitude  before  the  first  Eevolution,  because  the 
owner,  a  Madame  Legendre,  who  bought  it  for  assignats 
amounting  in  real  value  to  about  one  pound  sterling,  when 
the  clergy's  property  was  sold  by  the  nation,  was  known 
never  to  have  spent  a  penny  upon  it  either  at  the  time  of  the 
purchase  or  subsequently,  until  she  was  forced  by  a  tenant 
more  ingenious  or  more  desperate  than  the  rest.  That  it 
could  not  have  been  part  of  the  abbey  and  adjacent  monas- 
tery built  by  Childebert  I.,  avIio  was  buried  there  in  558,  was 
very  certain.  It  is  equally  improbable  that  the  Cardinal  de 
Bissy,  who  opened  a  street  upon  the  site  of  the  erstwhile 
abbey  in  the  year  of  Louis  XIV.'s  death,  would  have  erected 
so  high  a  pile  for  the  mere  accommodation  of  the  pensioners 
of  the  former  monastery,  at  a  time  when  high  piles  were  the 
exception.  Besides,  the  Nos.  1  and  3,  known  to  have  been 
occupied  by  those  pensioners,  all  of  whose  rooms  communi- 
cated with  one  another,  were  not  more  than  two  stories  high. 
In  short,  the  original  intention  of  the  builder  of  the  house 
No.  9,  yclept  "  La  Childebert,"  has  never  been  explained. 


8  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

The  only  tenant  in  the  Kue  Childebert  who  might  have 
thrown  a  light  on  the  subject  had  died  before  the  caravansary 
attained  its  fame.  He  was  more  than  a  hundred  years  old, 
and  had  married  five  times.  His  fifth  wife  was  only  eighteen 
when  she  became  Madame  Chanfort,  and  survived  him  for 
many,  many  years.  She  was  a  very  worthy  soul,  a  downright 
providence  to  the  generally  impecunious  painters,  whom  she 
used  to  feed  at  prices  which  even  then  were  ridiculously  low. 
Three  eggs,  albeit  fried  in  grease  instead  of  butter,  for  the 
sum  of  three-half-j)ence,  and  a  dinner,  including  wine,  for 
sixpence,  could  not  have  left  much  profit ;  but  Madame 
Chanfort  always  declared  that  she  had  enough  to  live  upon, 
and  that  she  supplied  the  art-students  with  food  at  cost  price 
because  she  would  not  be  without  their  company.  At  her 
death,  in  '57,  two  years  before  the  "  Childebert "  and  the 
street  of  the  same  name  disappeared,  there  was  a  sale  of  her 
chattels,  and  over  a  hundred  portraits  and  sketches  of  her, 
"  in  her  habit  as  she  lived,"  came  under  the  hammer.  To 
show  that  the  various  occupants  of  "  La  Childebert "  could 
do  more  than  make  a  noise  and  play  practical  jokes,  I  may 
state  that  not  a  single  one  of  these  productions  fetched  less 
than  fifty  francs — mere  crayon  studies ;  while  there  were  sev- 
eral that  sold  for  two  hundred  and  three  hundred  francs,  and 
two  studies  in  oil  brought  respectively  eight  hundred  francs 
and  twelve  hundred  francs.  Nearly  every  one  of  the  young 
men  who  had  signed  these  portraits  had  made  a  name  for  him- 
self. The  latter  two  were  signed  respectively  Paul  Delaroche 
and  Tony  Johannot. 

Nevertheless,  to  those  whose  love  of  peace  and  quietude 
was  stronger  than  their  artistic  instincts  and  watchful  admi- 
ration of  budding  genius,  the  neighbourhood  of  "  La  Childe- 
bert "  was  a  sore  and  grievous  trial.  At  times  the  street  itself, 
not  a  very  long  or  wide  one,  was  like  Pandemonium  let  loose ; 
it  was  when  there  was  an  "  At  Home  "  at  "  La  Childebert," 
and  such  functions  were  frequent,  especially  at  the  beginning 
of  the  months.  These  gatherings,  as  a  rule,  partook  of  the 
nature  of  fancy  dress  conversaziones  ;  for  dancing,  owing  to 
the  shakiness  of  the  building,  had  become  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, even  with  such  dare-devils  as  the  tenants.  What  the 
latter  prided  themselves  upon  most  was  their  strict  adherence 
to  the  local  colour  of  the  periods  they  preferred  to  resuscitate. 
Unfortunately  for  the  tranquillity  of  the  neighbourhood,  they 
pretended  to  carry  out  this  revival  in  its  smallest  details,  not 


THE  CHILDEBERTIANS  AT  HOME.  9 

only  in  their  artistic  productions,  but  in  their  daily  lives. 
The  actor  who  blacked  himself  all  over  to  play  Othello  was 
as  nothing  to  them  in  his  attempted  realism,  because  we  may 
suppose  that  he  got  rid  of  his  paint  before  returning  to  the 
everyday  world.  Not  so  the  inmates  of  "  La  Childebert." 
They  were  minstrels,  or  corsairs,  or  proud  and  valiant  knights 
from  the  moment  they  got  up  till  the  moment  they  went  to 
bed,  and  many  of  them  even  scorned  to  stretch  their  weary 
limbs  on  so  effeminate  a  contrivance  as  a  modern  mattress, 
but  endeavoured  to  keep  up  the  illusion  by  lying  on  a  rush- 
bestrewn  floor. 

I  am  not  sufficiently  learned  to  trace  these  various  and 
succeeding  disguises  to  their  literary  and  theatrical  causes, 
for  it  was  generally  a  new  book  or  a  ncAv  play  that  set  the 
ball  rolling  in  *  certain  direction ;  nor  can  1  vouch  for  the 
chronological  accuracy  and  completeness  of  my  record  in 
that  respect,  but  I  remember  some  phases  of  that  ever-shift- 
ing masquerade.  When  I  was  a  very  little  boy,  I  was  struck 
more  than  once  with  the  sight  of  young  men  parading  the 
streets  in  doublets,  trunk  hose,  their  flowing  locks  adorned 
with  velvet  caps  and  birds'  wings,  their  loins  girded  Avith 
short  swords.  And  yet  it  was  not  carnival  time.  No  one 
seemed  to  take  particular  notice  of  them ;  the  Parisians  by 
that  time  had  probably  got  used  to  their  vagaries.  Those 
competent  in  such  matters  have  since  told  me  that  the  "  get- 
up  "  was  inspired  by  "  La  Gaule  Poetique  "  of  M.  de  Mar- 
changy,  the  novels  of  M.  d'Arlincourt,  and  the  kindred  stilt- 
ed literature  that  characterized  the  beginning  of  the  Restora- 
tion. Both  these  gentlemen,  from  their  very  hatred  of  the 
Greeks  and  Romans  of  the  first  Empire,  created  heroes  of 
fiction  still  more  ridiculous  than  the  latter,  just  as  Metter- 
nich,  through  his  weariness  of  the  word  "  fraternity,"  said 
that  if  he  had  a  brother  he  would  call  him  "cousin."  A  few 
years  later,  the  first  translation  of  Byron's  works  produced 
its  effect ;  and  then  came  Defauconpret,  with  his  very  credit- 
able French  versions  of  Walter  Scott.  The  influence  of  Paul 
Delaroche  and  his  co-champions  of  the  cause  of  romanticism, 
the  revolution  of  July,  the  dramas  of  Alexandre  Dumas  and 
Victor  Hugo,  all  added  their  quota  to  the  prevailing  confu- 
sion in  the  matter  of  style  and  period,  and  early  in  the  forties 
there  were  at  the  "  Childebert "  several  camps,  fraternizing 
in  everything  save  in  their  dress  and  speech,  which  were  the 
visible  and  audible  manifestation  of  their  individual  predi- 


10  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

lection  for  certain  periods  of  history.  For  instance,  it  was 
no  uncommon  thing  to  hear  the  son  of  a  concierge,  whose 
real  or  fancied  vocation  had  made  him  embrace  the  artistic 
profession,  swear  by  "  the  faith  of  his  ancestors,"  while  the 
impoverished  scion  of  a  noble  house  replied  by  calling  him 
"a  bloated  reminiscence  of  a  feudal  and  superstitious  age." 

At  the  conversaziones  which  I  mentioned  just  now,  the 
guests  of  the  inmates  of  "  La  Childebert "  not  only  managed 
to  out-Herod  Herod  in  diction  and  attire,  but,  to  heighten 
illusion  still  further,  adopted  as  far  as  possible  the  mode  of 
conveyance  supposed  to  have  been  employed  by  their  proto- 
types. The  classicists,  and  those  still  addicted  to  the  illus- 
tration of  Greek  and  Roman  mythology,  though  nominally 
in  the  minority  at  the  "  Childebert  "  itself,  were,  as  a  rule, 
most  successful  in  those  attempts.  The  ass  that  had  borne 
Silenus,  the  steeds  that  had  drawn  the  chariot  of  the  tri- 
umphant Roman  warrior,  the  she-goat  that  was  supposed  to 
have  suckled  Jupiter,  were  as  familiar  to  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Rue  Childebert  as  the  cats  and  mongrels  of  their  own 
households.  The  obstructions  caused  by  the  former  no  longer 
aroused  their  ire  ;  but  when,  one  evening,  Romulus  and  Re- 
mus made  their  appeai'ance,  accompanied  by  the  legendary 
she- wolf,  they  went  mad  with  terror.  The  panic  was  at  its 
height  when,  with  an  utter  disregard  of  mythological  tradi- 
tion, Hercules  walked  up  the  street,  leading  the  Nemsean 
lion.  Then  the  aid  of  the  police  was  invoked  ;  but  neither 
the  police  nor  the  national  guards,  who  came  after  them, 
dared  to  tackle  the  animals,  though  they  might  have  done 
so  safely,  because  the  supposed  wolf  was  a  great  dane,  and 
the  lion  a  mastiff,  but  so  marvellously  padded  and  painted 
as  to  deceive  any  but  the  most  practised  eye.  The  culprits, 
however,  did  not  reveal  the  secret  until  they  were  at  the 
commissary  of  police's  office,  enjoying  the  magnificent  treat 
of  setting  the  whole  of  the  neighbourhood  in  an  uproar  on 
their  journey  thither,  and  of  frightening  that  official  on  their 
arrival. 

In  fact,  long  before  I  knew  them,  the  inmates  of  the 
"  Childebert "  had  become  a  positive  scourge  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood, while  the  structure  itself  threatened  ruin  to  every- 
tliing  around  it.  Madame  Legendre  absolutely  refused  to 
do  any  repairs.  She  did  not  deny  that  she  had  bought  the 
place  cheap,  but  she  pointed  out  at  the  same  time  that  the 
rents  she  charged  were  more  than  modest,  and  that  eight 


THE  PROPRIETRESS  OP  "LA  CHILDEBERT."-       H 

times  out  of  ten  she  did  not  get  them.  In  the  beginning  of 
her  ownership  she  had  employed  a  male  concierge,  to  pre- 
vent, as  it  were,  the  wholesale  flitting  which  was  sure  to  fol- 
low a  more  strenuous  application  for  arrears  upon  which  she 
ventured  now  and  then  in  those  days.  That  was  towards 
the  end  of  the  Empire,  when  the  disciples  of  David  had  been 
reduced  to  a  minority  in  the  place  by  those  of  Lethiere,  who 
sounded  the  first  note  of  revolt  against  the  unconditional 
classicism  of  the  illustrious  member  of  the  Convention.  If 
all  the  disciples  of  the  Creole  painter  had  not  his  genius, 
most  of  them  had  his  courage  and  readiness  to  draw  the 
sword  on  the  smallest  provocation,*  and  the  various  Cerberi 
employed  by  Madame  Legendre  to  enforce  her  claims  had  to 
fly  one  after  another.  The  rumour  of  the  danger  of  the  situ- 
ation had  spread,  and  at  last  Madame  Legendre  could  find 
no  man  to  till  it,  except  on  monetary  conditions  wdth  which 
she  would  not — perhaps  could  not — comply.  From  that  day 
forth  she  employed  a  woman,  who  Avas  safe,  because  she  had 
been  told  to  let  "  lawless  impecuniosity  "  take  its  course,  and 
it  was  recorded  that  pecuniarily  the  proprietress  was  the  bet- 
ter off  for  this  change  of  tactics. 

I  am  willing  to  repeat  that  record,  which,  if  true,  did 
credit  to  the  head  of  the  landlady  and  the  hearts  of  her  ten- 
ants, but  am  compelled  to  supplement  it  by  a  different  ver- 
sion. When  I  saw  the  "  Childebert "  in  '37  or  '38,  no  man  in 
his  senses  would  have  paid  rent  for  any  one  room  in  it  on 
the  two  top  stories ;  he  might  as  well  have  lived  in  the  streets. 
It  was  an  absolute  case  of  the  bottomless  sedan  chair  in 
Avliich  two  of  his  fellow-porters  put  Pat ;  "  but  for  the  hon- 
our of  the  thing,  he  might  have  walked."  Consequently 
the  tenants  there  were  rarely  harassed  for  their  rent ;  if  they 
paid  it  at  all,  it  was  so  much  unexpected  gain.  It  happened, 
however,  that  now  and  then  by  mistake  a  youngster  was  put 
there  who  had  scruples  about  discharging  his  liabilities  in 
that  respect ;  and  one  of  these  Avas  Emile  Lapierre,  who  sub- 
sequently became  a  landscape-painter  of  note.  One  night, 
after  he  had  taken  up  his  quarters  there,  the  floodgates  of 
heaven  opened  over  Paris.     Lapierre  woke  up  amidst  a  del- 

*  Guillaumc  Lethiere,  whose  real  name  was  Guillon,  was  a  native  of  Guade- 
loupe, lie  fought  and  seriously  wounded  several  officers  because  the  latter  had 
objected  to  "a  mere  dauber  wearing  moustaches."  He  was  obliared  to  leave 
Paris,  but,  thanks  to  the  protection  of  lAicien  Bonaparte,  was  appointed  Direct- 
or of  the  French  Academie  at  Komc^EoiTOB. 


12  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

uge.  I  need  not  say  that  there  were  no  bells  at  the  "  Cliil- 
debert ; "  nevertheless  there  was  no  fear  of  dying  unattended, 
provided  one  could  shout,  for  there  was  always  a  party  turn- 
ing night  into  day,  or  hailing  the  smiling  morn  before  turn- 
ing in.  Lapierre's  shouts  found  a  ready  echo,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  old  concierge  was  on  the  spot. 

"  Go  and  fetch  a  boat — go  and  fetch  a  boat ! "  yelled  La- 
pierre.     "  I  am  drowning ! "  yelled  Lapierre. 

"  There  are  none  in  the  quarter,"  replied  the  old  woman 
innocently,  thinking  he  was  in  earnest. 

"  Then  go  and  fetch  Madame  Legendre,  to  show  her  the 

Eond  she  is  letting  me  instead  of  the  room  for  which  I  pay 
er." 

"  Madame  would  not  come,  not  even  for  you,  monsieur, 
who  are  the  only  one  punctual  with  your  rent ;  besides,  if  she 
did  come,  she  would  have  no  repairs  done." 

"  Oh,  she'll  have  no  repairs  done !  We'll  soon  find  out. 
I  think  I'll  make  her,"  screamed  Lapierre ;  and  he  kept  his 
word. 

It  was  the  only  instance  of  Madame  Legendre  having  had 
to  capitulate,  and  I  have  alluded  to  it  before ;  it  remains  for 
me  to  tell  how  it  was  done. 

Lapierre,  contrary  to  the  precept,  allowed  the  sun  to  go 
down  upon  his  wrath,  in  the  hope  perhaps  of  inducing  Ma- 
dame Legendre  to  change  her  oft-announced  decision  of  doing 
no  repairs;  but  he  rose  betimes  next  morning,  and  when 
there  was  no  sign  of  workmen,  he  proceeded  to  carry  out  his 
plan.  The  floors  of  the  "  Childebert "  were  made  of  brick, 
and  he  simply  removed  three  or  four  squares  from  his,  after 
which  he  went  downstairs  and  recruited  half  a  dozen  water- 
carriers,  and  bade  them  empty  their  full  pails  into  the  open- 
ing he  had  made.  I  shall  probably  have  some  remarks  to 
make  elsewhere  about  the  water-supply  of  Paris ;  at  present 
it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  in  those  days  there  was  not  a  single 
house  in  the  capital  which  was  not  dependent  upon  those 
Auvergnats  who  carried  the  commodity  round  in  barrels  on 
carts  drawn  by  hand  or  horse.  These  gentlemen,  though  as- 
tonished at  the  strange  task  required  of  them,  consented.  In 
less  than  ten  minutes  there  was  a  string  of  water-carts  sta- 
tioned in  the  Kue  Childebert,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more  the 
lower  stories  were  simply  flooded.  Aime  Millet,  the  sculptor, 
whose  room  was  situated  immediately  beneath  that  of  La- 
pierre, was  the  first  victim.     It  was  he  who  gave  the  alarm, 


THE  PROPRIETRESS  MAKES  A  CONCESSION.         13 

but,  as  a  matter  of  course,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  there 
were  one  or  two  heads  at  every  window,  and  though  very 
early,  there  was  a  stampede  of  very  primitively  clad  models  (?) 
into  the  street,  shouting  and  yelling  out  at  the  top  of  their 
voices.  Outside  no  one  seemed  to  know  exactly  what  had 
occurred ;  the  prevailing  impression  was  that  the  place  was 
on  fire.  Then  Madame  Legendre  was  sent  for  in  hot  haste. 
By  that  time  the  truth  had  become  known  in  the  house.  The 
alarm  had  subsided,  but  not  the  noise.  AVhen  the  report  of 
Madame  Legendre's  coming  got  wind,  a  deputation  went  to 
the  entrance  of  the  street  to  welcome  her.  It  was  provided 
with  all  sorts  of  instruments  except  musical  ones,  and  the  old 
dame  was  conducted  in  state  to  Millet's  room.  The  cause  of 
the  mischief  was  soon  ascertained,  for  the  water-carriers  were 
still  at  work.  The  police  had  refused  to  interfere  ;  in  reality, 
they  would  not  have  been  sorry  to  see  the  building  come 
down  with  a  crash,  for  it  was  as  great  a  source  of  annoyance 
to  them  as  to  the  peaceful  burghers  they  were  supposed  to 
protect.  A  move  Avas  made  to  the  room  above,  where  Lapierre 
— without  a  stitch  of  clothing — stood  directing  the  opera- 
tions. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Monsieur  Lapierre  ? "  screeched 
Madame  Legendre. 

"  I  am  taking  a  bath,  madame ;  it  is  very  warm.  You 
gave  me  one  against  my  will  the  night  before  last ;  and  lest 
I  should  be  accused  of  selfishness,  I  am  letting  my  neighbours 
partake  of  the  pleasure." 

That  is  how  Madame  Legendre  was  compelled  to  repair 
the  roof  of  "  La  Childebert." 

Such  was  the  company  amidst  which  I  was  introduced  by 
the  son  of  my  old  tutor.  Many  years  have  passed  since  then, 
during  Avhich  I  have  been  thrown  into  the  society  of  the  great 
and  powerful  ones  of  this  world,  rather  through  the  force  of 
circumstances  than  owing  to  my  own  merits,  but  I  have  looked 
in  vain  for  the  honest  friendships,  the  disinterested  actions, 
the  genuine  enthusiasm  for  their  art,  underlying  their  devilry, 
of  which  these  young  men  were  capable.  The  bourgeois  vices, 
in  the  guise  of  civic  and  domestic  virtues,  entered  the  souls  of 
Frenchmen  early  in  the  reign  of  Louis-Philippe,  and  have 
been  gnawing  since,  with  ever-increasing  force,  like  a  cancer, 
at  everything  that  was  noble  and  worthy  of  admiration  in  a 
nation.  But  those  vices  never  found  their  way  to  the  hearts 
of  the  inmates  of  "  La  Childebert "  while  they  were  there, 


14  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

and  rarely  in  after-life.  Many  attained  world-wide  reputa- 
tions ;  few  gathered  riches,  even  when  they  were  as  frugal  as 
the  best  among  them — Eugene  Delacroix. 

To  have  known  these  young  men  was  absolutely  a  liberal 
education.  To  the  Podsnap  and  Philistine  of  no  matter  what 
nationality,  it  seems  a  sad  thing  to  have  no  thought  for  to- 
morrow. And  these  youngsters  had  not  even  a  thought  for 
the  day.  Their  thoughts  were  for  the  future,  when  the  world 
mayhap  would  ring  with  their  names ;  but  their  physical  or 
mental  hearing  never  strained  for  the  ring  of  money.  They 
were  improvident  creatures,  to  be  sure  ;  but  how  much  more 
lovable  than  the  young  painters  of  the  present  period,  whose 
ideal  is  a  big  balance  at  their  bankers ;  who  would  rather 
have  their  names  inscribed  on  the  registers  of  the  public  debt 
than  in  the  golden  book  of  art ;  whose  dreamt-of  Eden  is  a 
bijou  villa  in  the  Pare  Monceaux  or  in  the  Avenue  Villiers ; 
whose  providence  is  the  richard^  the  parvenu,  the  wealthy 
upstart,  whose  features  they  perpetuate,  regardless  of  the  per- 
petuation of  their  own  budding  fame ! 

When  I  began  to  jot  down  these  notes,  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  eschew  comparisons  and  moralizing ;  I  find  I  have  uncon- 
sciously done  both,  but  will  endeavour  not  to  offend  again. 
Still,  I  cannot  help  observing  how  the  mere  "  moneyed  no- 
body "  rushes  noAvadays  to  the  eminent  painter  to  have  his 
lineaments  reproduced,  when  a  guinea  photograph  would 
serve  his  purpose  just  as  well  for  "  family  use ; "  for  I  take  it 
that  no  one,  besides  his  relations  and  friends,  cares  or  will 
care  to  gaze  upon  his  features.  And  ^et  our  annual  picture 
exhibitions  are  crowded  with  the  portraits  of  these  nonentities. 
They  advertise  themselves  through  the  painters  that  transfer 
them  to  canvas,  and  the  latter  are  content  to  pocket  heavy 
fees,  like  the  advertising  agents  they  are.  I  am  certain  that 
neither  Holbein,  Eubens,  Van  Dyck,  Hals,  nor  Kembrandt 
would  have  lent  themselves  to  such  transactions.  When  they, 
or  a  Eeynolds,  a  Lawrence,  a  Gainsborough,  conferred  the 
honour  of  their  brush  upon  some  one,  it  was  because  he  or 
she  was  already  distinguished  from  his  or  her  fellow-creat- 
ures by  beauty,  social  position,  talents,  genius,  or  birth ;  not 
because  he  or  she  wanted  to  be,  or,  in  default  of  such  distinc- 
tion, wanted  to  attract  the  public  notice  at  all  costs.  That, 
I  fancy,  was  the  way  in  which  painters  of  other  days  looked 
upon  the  thing.  I  know  it  was  the  way  in  which  the  young 
fellows  at  the  "  Childebert "  did ;  and  woe  to  their  comrade 


ART  PATRONS  AT  "LA  CHILDEBERT."  15 

who  ventured  to  apply  in  art  the  principle  of  international 
maritime  law,  that  "  le  jDavillon  couvre  la  marchandise  "  (the 
flag  covers  the  cargo) !  He  was  scouted  and  Jeered  at,  and, 
moreover,  rarely  allowed  to  reap  the  pecuniary  benefit  of  his 
artistic  abasement.  Hence  the  "  patron  for  a  portrait "  sel- 
dom found  his  way  to  "  La  Childebert."  AVhen  he  did,  the 
whole  of  the  place  conspired  to  make  his  life  and  that  of  his 
would-be  jo?-o^4/^' a  misery. 

To  enumerate  all  the  devices  resorted  to  to  make  the  sit- 
tings abortive,  to  "  distort  the  features  that  had  donned  the 
bland  smile  of  placid  contentment "  with  the  paralyzing  fear 
of  some  impending  catastrophe,  would  be  impossible ;  the 
mention  of  a  few  must  suflBce.  That  most  frequently  em- 
ployed, and  comparatively  easy  of  execution,  was  the  setting 
alight  of  damp  straw;  the  dense  smoke  penetrated  every 
nook  and  cranny  of  the  crazy  building,  and  the  sitter,  mad 
with  fright,  rushed  away.  The  chances  were  a  hundred  to 
one  against  his  ever  returning.  Another  was  the  intrusion 
of  a  male  model  offering  his  services  as  a  Saint-Jerome,  or  a 
female  one  offering  hers  as  Godiva  ;  for,  curious  to  relate,  the 
devotion  of  the  wife  of  Leofric  of  Murcia  was  a  favourite 
subject  with  the  Childebertians.  As  a  matter  of  course,  the 
applicants  were  in  the  costume,  or  rather  lack  of  costume, 
appropriate  to  the  character.  The  strait-laced  bourgeois  or 
bourgeoise  was  shocked,  and  did  not  repeat  the  visit.  The 
cry  that  there  was  a  mad  dog  in  the  house  was  a  common  one 
on  those  occasions  ;  and  at  last  the  would-be  portrait-painters 
had  to  give  in,  and  a  big  placard  appeared  on  the  frontis- 
piece :  "  Le  commerce  des  portraits  a  ete  cede  aux  directeur 
et  membres  de  I'Ecole  des  Beaux- Arts." 

The  most  curious  thing  in  connection  with  the  "  Childe- 
bert "  Avas  that,  though  the  place  was  inexpressibly  ill  kept, 
it  escaped  the  most  terrible  visitations  of  the  cholera.  I  pre- 
fer not  to  enter  into  details  of  the  absolute  disregard  of  all 
sanitary  conditions,  but  in  warm  weather  the  building  became 
positively  uninhabitable.  Long  before  the  unsavoury  spec- 
tacle of  "  learned  fleas  "  became  a  feature  of  the  suburban 
fairs,  Emile  Signol,  who  is  best  known  as  a  painter  of  relig- 
ious subjects,  had  trained  a  company  of  performers  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  nocturnal  pests.  He  averred  in  his  opening 
lecture  that  their  ingenuity  was  too  great  to  remain  unknown, 
and  cited  anecdotes  fully  proving  his  words.  Certain  is  it 
that  they  were  the  only  enemies  before  which  the  combined 


16  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

forces  of  the  Childebertians  proved  powerless.  But  even 
under  such  trying  circumstances  the  latter  never  lost  their 
buoyant  spirits,  and  their  retreats  eti  masse  were  effected  in 
a  manner  the  reports  of  which  set  the  whole  of  Paris  in  a 
roar.  One  Sunday  morning,  the  faithful  worshippers,  going 
to  matins  at  the  Church  of  St.  Germain-des-Pres,  found  the 
square  occupied  by  a  troop  of  Bedouins,  wrapt  in  their  bur- 
nouses, and  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just.  Some  had  squatted 
in  corners,  calmly  smoking  their  chibouks.  This  was  in  the 
days  of  the  Algerian  campaign,  and  the  rumour  spread  like 
wildfire  that  a  party  of  Arab  prisoners  of  war  were  bivouacked 
round  the  church,  where  a  special  service  would  be  given  in 
the  afternoon  as  the  first  step  to  their  conversion  to  Chris- 
tianity. It  being  Sunday,  the  whole  of  Paris  rushed  to  the 
spot.  The  Bedouins  had,  however,  disappeared,  but  a  col- 
lection was  made  in  their  behalf  by  several  demure-looking 
young  men.  The  Parisians  gave  liberally.  That  night,  and 
two  or'  three  nights  after,  the  nocturnal  pests'  occupation  was 
gone,  for  the  "  Childebert "  was  lighted  a  giorno  from  base- 
ment to  roof,  and  the  Childebertians  held  high  festival.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  streets  adjacent  to  the  Rue  Childebert 
spent  as  many  sleepless  nights,  though  their  houses  were  per- 
fectly wholesome  and  clean. 

I  had  the  honour  to  be  a  frequent  guest  at  those  gather- 
ings, but  I  feel  that  a  detailed  description  of  them  is  beyond 
my  powers.  I  have  already  said  that  the  craziness  of  the 
structure  would  have  rendered  extremely  dangerous  any  com- 
bined display  of  choregraphic  art,  as  practised  by  the  Childe- 
bertians and  their  friends,  male  and  female,  at  the  neighbour- 
ing Grande-Chaumiere ;  it  did,  however,  not  prevent  a  lady 
or  gentleman  of  the  company  from  performing  a  pas  seul  now 
and  then.  This,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  the  pre-Eigol- 
bochian  period,  before  Chicard  with  his  chalmt  had  been  oust- 
ed from  his  exalted  position  by  the  more  elegant  and  graceful 
evolutions  of  the  originator  of  the  modern  cancan,  the  famous 
Brididi ;  when  the  Faubourg  du  Temple,  the  Bal  du  Grand 
Saint-Martin,  and  "  the  descent  of  the  Courtille  "  were  pa- 
tronized by  the  Paris  jeunesse  doree^  and  in  their  halcyon  da)'s, 
when  the  habitues  of  the  establishment  of  Le  Pere  Lahire  con- 
sidered it  their  greatest  glory  to  imitate  as  closely  as  possible 
the  bacchanalian  gyrations  of  the  choregraphic  autocrat  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Seine.  No  mere  description  could  do 
justice  to  these  gyrations  ;  only  a  draughtsman  of  the  high- 


BOBINO  AND   ITS  HABITUES.  17 

est  skill  could  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  them.  But,  as  a 
rule,  the  soirees  at  the  "  Childebert "  were  not  conspicuous 
for  such  displays;  theii  programme  was  a  more  ambitious  one 
from  an  intellectual  point  of  view,  albeit  that  the  programme 
was  rarely,  if  ever,  carried  out.  This  failure  of  the  prear- 
ranged proceedings  mainly  arose  from  the  disinclination  or 
inability  of  the  fairer  portion  of  the  company  to  play  the  pas- 
sive part  of  listeners  and  spectators  during  the  recital  of  an 
unpublished  poem  of  i^erhaps  a  thousand  lines  or  so,  though 
the  reciter  was  no  less  a  personage  than  the  author.  In  vain 
did  the  less  frivolous  and  male  part  of  the  audience  claim  "  si- 
lence for  the  minstrel ;  "  the  interrupters  could  conceive  no 
minstrel  without  a  guitar  or  some  kindred  instrument,  least 
of  all  a  minstrel  who  merely  spoke  his  words,  and  the  feast 
of  reason  and  flow  of  soul  came  generally  to  an  abrupt  end  by 
the  rising  of  a  damsel  more  outspoken  still  than  her  compan- 
ions, who  proposed  an  adjournment  to  one  of  the  adjacent 
taverns,  or  to  the  not  far  distant  "  Grande-Chaumiere,"  "  si 
on  continue  a  nous  assommer  avec  des  vers."  The  threat  in- 
variably produced  its  effect.  The  "  minstrel  "  was  politely 
requested  to  "  shut  up,"  and  Beranger,  Desaugiers,  or  even 
M.  Scribe,  took  the  place  of  the  Victor  Hugo  in  embryo  until 
the  small  hours  of  the  morning ;  the  departure  of  the  guests 
being  witnessed  by  the  night-capped  inhabitants  of  the  Eue 
Childebert  from,  their  windows,  amidst  the  comforting  reflec- 
tions that  for  another  three  weeks  or  so  there  would  be  peace 
in  the  festive  halls  of  that  "  accursed  building." 

My  frequent  visits  to  "  La  Childebert "  had  developed  a 
taste  for  the  Bohemian  attractions  of  the  Quartier- Latin.  I 
was  not  twenty,  and  though  I  caught  frequent  glimpses  at 
home  of  some  of  the  eminent  men  with  whom  a  few  years 
later  I  lived  on  terms  of  friendship,  I  could  not  aspire  to 
their  society  then.  It  is  doubtful  whether  I  would  have  done 
so  if  I  could.  I  preferred  the  Theatre  Bobino  to  the  Opera 
and  the  Comedie-Frangaise;  the  Grande-Chaumiere — or  the 
Chaumiere,  as  it  was  simply  called — to  the  most  brilliantly 
lighted  and  decorated  ballroom;  a  stroll  with  a  couple  of 
young  students  in  the  gardens  of  the  Luxembourg  to  a  car- 
riage-drive in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  ;  a  dinner  for  three 
francs  at  Magny's,  in  the  Eue  Contrescarpe-Dauphine,  or 
even  one  for  twenty-two  sous  at  Viot's  or  Blery's,  to  the  most 
sumptuous  repast  at  the  Cafe  Eiche  or  the  Cafe  de  Paris.  I 
preferred  the  buttered  rolls  and  the  bowl  of  milk  at  the 


18  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Boiilangerie  Cretaine,  in  the  Rue  Dauphine,  to  the  best  sup- 
pers at  the  Cafe  Anglais,  whither  I  had  been  taJcen  once  or 
twice  during  the  Carnival — in  short,  I  was  very  young  and 
very  foolish ;  since  then  I  have  often  wished  that,  at  the  risk 
of  remaining  very  foolish  for  evermore,  I  could  have  pro- 
longed my  youth  for  another  score  of  years. 

For  once  in  a  way  I  have  no  need  to  be  ashamed  of  my  want 
of  memory.  I  could  not  give  an  account  of  a  single  piece  I 
saw  during  those  two  or  three  years  at  Bobino,  but  I  am 
certain  that  not  one  of  the  companions  of  my  youth  could. 
It  is  not  because  the  lapse  of  time  has  dimmed  the  recollec- 
tion of  the  plots,  but  because  there  were  no  plots,  or  at  any 
rate  none  that  we  could  understand,  and  I  doubt  very  much 
whether  the  actors  and  actresses  were  more  enlightened  in 
that  respect  than  the  audience.  The  pieces  were  vaudevilles, 
most  of  them,  and  it  was  sufficient  for  us  to  join  in  the 
choruses  of  the  songs,  with  which  they  were  plentifully  in- 
terlarded. As  for  the  dialogue,  it  might  have  been  sparkling 
with  wit  and  epigram  ;  it  was  nearly  always  drowned  by  in- 
terpolations from  one  side  of  the  house  or  the  other.  When 
the  tumult  became  too  great,  the  curtain  was  simply  lowered, 
to  be  almost  immediately  raised,  "  discovering  "  the  manager 
— in  his  dressing-gown.  He  seemed  prouder  of  that  piece  of 
attire  than  the  more  modern  one  would  be  of  the  most  fault- 
less evening  dress.  He  never  appealed  to  us  by  invoking  the 
laws  of  politeness;  he  never  threatened  to  have  the  house 
cleared.  He  simply  pointed  out  to  us  that  the  police  would 
inevitably  close  the  place  at  the  request  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Rue  de  Madame  if  the  noise  rose  above  a  certain  pitch, 
and  disturbed  their  peaceful  evening  hours,  spent  in  the 
bosom  of  their  families  ;  which  remark  was  always  followed 
by  the  audience  intoning  as  one  man  Gretry's  "  Ou  peut-on 
^tre  mieux  qu'au  sein  de  sa  famille?"  the  orchestra — such 
an  orchestra ! — playing  the  accompaniment,  and  the  mana- 
ger himself  beating  time.  Then  he  went  on.  "  Yes,  messieurs 
et  mesdames,  we  are  here  en  famille  also,  as  much  en  famille 
as  at  the  Grande-Chaumiere ;  and  has  not  M.  Lahire  ob- 
tained from  the  Government  the  permission  de  faire  sa  police 
tout  seul !  After  all,  he  is  providing  exercise  for  your  mus- 
cles ;  I  am  providing  food  for  your  brain." 

The  speech  was  a  stereotyped  one — we  all  knew  it  by 
heart ;  it  invariably  produced  its  effect  in  keeping  us  com- 
paratively quiet  for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  unless  a  hour- 


COLLEGIANS  AND  THEIR  DRESS.  19 

geois  liappened  to  come  in.  Then  the  uproar  became  un- 
controllable ;  no  managerial  speech  could  quell  it  until  the 
intruder  had  left  the  theatre. 

By  a  bourgeois  was  meant  a  man  who  wore  broadcloth 
and  a  top  hat,  but  especially  the  latter.  In  fact,  that  head- 
gear was  rarely  seen  within  the  inner  precincts  of  the  Quartier- 
Latin,  even  during  the  daytime,  except  on  the  head  of  a 
professor,  or  on  Thursdays  when  the  collegians — the  term 
"lyceen"  was  not  invented — were  taken  for  their  weekly 
outing.  The  semi-military  dress  of  the  present  time  had  not 
been  thought  of  then.  The  collegian  wore  a  top  hat,  like 
our  Eton  boys,  a  white  necktie,  a  kind  of  black  quaker  coat 
with  a  stand-up  collar,  a  very  dark  blue  waistcoat  and  trousers, 
low  shoes,  and  blue  woollen  stockings.  In  the  summer,  some 
of  them,  especially  those  of  the  College  Rollin,  had  a  waist- 
coat and  trousers  of  a  lighter  texture,  and  drab  instead  of 
blue.  They  were  virtually  prisoners  within  the  walls  of  the 
college  all  the  week,  for  in  their  Thursday  promenades  they 
were  little  more  than  prisoners  taking  exercise  under  the 
supervision  of  their  gaolers.  They  were  allowed  to  leave  on 
alternate  Sundays,  provided  they  had  parents,  relations,  or 
friends  in  Paris,  who  could  come  themselves  or  send  their 
servants  to  fetch  them  in  the  morning  and  take  them  back  at 
night.  The  rule  applied  to  all,  whether  they  were  nine  or 
double  that  number  of  years ;  it  prevails  even  now.  I  only 
set  foot  in  a  French  college  of  those  days  twice  to  see  a  young 
friend  of  mine,  and  I  thanked  my  stars  that  four  or  five  years 
of  that  existence  had  been  spared  to  me.  The  food  and  the 
table  appointments,  the  bedrooms — they  were  more  like  cells 
with  their  barred  windows — Avould  have  been  declined  by  the 
meanest  English  servant,  certainly  by  the  meanest  French 
one.  I  have  never  met  with  a  Frenchman  who  looks  back 
with  fond  remembrance  on  his  school-days. 

The  evening  was  generally  wound  up  with  a  supper  at 
Dagneaux's,  Pinson's,  or  at  the  rotisseuse — that  is,  if  the 
evening  happened  to  fall  within  the  first  ten  days  of  the 
month  ;  afterwards  the  entertainment  nearly  always  consisted 
of  a  meat-pie,  bought  at  one  of  the  charcutiers',  and  washed 
down  with  the  bottles  of  wine  purchased  at  the  Hotel  de 
I'Empereur  Joseph  II.,  at  the  south-eastern  angle  of  the  Kue 
de  Tournon,  where  it  stands  still.  The  legend  ran  that  the 
brother  of  Marie  Antoinette  had  stayed  there  while  on  a  visit 
to  Paris,  but  it  is  scarcely  likely  that  he  would  have  done  so 


20  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

while  his  sister  was  within  a  step  of  the  throne  of  France ; 
nevertheless  the  Count  von  Falkenstein — which  was  the  name 
he  adopted  when  travelling  incognito — was  somewhat  of  a 
philosopher.  Did  not  he  once  pay  a  visit  to  Jean-Jacques 
Kousseau  without  having  apprised  him  of  his  call?  Jean- 
Jacques  was  copying  music  as  the  door  opened  to  let  in  the 
visitor,  and  felt  flattered  enough,  we  may  be  sure ;  not  so 
Bulfon,  whom  Joseph  surprised  under  similar  circumstances, 
and  who  could  never  forgive  himself  for  having  been  caught 
in  his  dressing-gown — he  who  never  sat  down  to  work  except 
in  lace  ruffles  and  frill. 

If  I  have  been  unwittingly  betrayed  into  a  semi-historical 
disquisition,  it  is  because  almost  every  step  in  that  quarter 
gave  rise  to  one,  even  amongst  those  light-hearted  companions 
of  mine,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  fairer  portion  of 
the  company.  They  only  took  an  interest  in  the  biography 
of  one  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  street,  whether  past  or 
present,  and  that  was  in  the  biography  of  Mdlle.  Lenormand, 
a  well-known  fortune-teller,  who  lived  at  'No.  5.  They  had 
heard  that  the  old  woman,  who  had  been  the  mistress  of 
Hebert  of  "Pere  Duchesne"  fame,  had,  during  the  First 
Revolution,  predicted  to  Josephine  de  Beauharnais  that  she 
should  be  empress,  as  some  gipsy  at  Grenada  predicted  a 
similar  elevation  to  Eugenie  de  Montijo  many  years  after- 
wards. Mdlle.  Lenormand  had  been  imprisoned  after 
Hebert's  death,  but  the  moment  Napoleon  became  first 
consul  she  was  liberated,  and  frequently  sent  for  to  the  Lux- 
embourg, which  is  but  a  stone's  throw  from  the  Eue  de 
Tournon.  As  a  matter  of  course  her  fame  spread,  and  she 
made  a  great  deal  of  money  during  the  first  empire.  Igno- 
rant as  they  were  of  history,  the  sprightly  grisettes  of  our 
days  had  heard  of  that ;  their  great  ambition  was  to  get  the 
five  francs  that  would  open  the  door  of  Mdlle.  Lenormand 's 
to  them.  Mdlle.  Lenormand  died  about  the  year  '43.  Jules 
Janin,  who  lived  in  the  same  street,  in  the  house  formerly 
inhabited  by  Theroigne  de  Mericourt,  went  to  the  fortune- 
teller's funeral.  The  five  francs  so  often  claimed  by  the 
etudiante,  so  rarely  forthcoming  from  the  pockets  of  her 
admirer,  was  an  important  sum  in  those  days  among  the 
youth  of  the  Quartier-Latin.  There  were  few  whose  allow- 
ance exceeded  two  hundred  francs  per  month.  A  great 
many  had  to  do  with  less.  Those  who  were  in  receipt  of  five 
hundred  francs — ^perhaps  not  two  score  among  the  whole 


RURAL  EXCURSIONS.  21 

number — were  scarcely  considered  as  belonging  to  the  fra- 
ternity. They  were  called  "  ultrapontins,"  to  distinguish 
them  from  those  who  from  one  year's  end  to  another  never 
crossed  the  river,  except  perhaps  to  go  to  one  of  the  theatres, 
because  there  was  not  much  to  be  seen  at  the  Odeon  during 
the  thirties.  With  Harel's  migration  to  the  Porte  St.  Martiu, 
the  glory  of  the  second  Theatre-Fran9ais  had  departed,  and 
it  was  not  until  '41  that  Lireux  managed  to  revive  some 
of  its  ancient  fame.  By  that  time  I  had  ceased  to  go  to  the 
Quartier-Latin,  but  Lireux  was  a  familiar  figure  at  the  Cafe 
Kiche  and  at  the  divan  of  the  Rue  Le  Peletier ;  he  dined  now 
and  then  at  the  Cafe  do  Paris.  So  we  made  it  a  point  to 
attend  every  one  of  his  first  nights,  notwithstanding  the 
warnings  in  verse  and  in  prose  of  every  wit  of  Paris,  Theo- 
phile  Gautier  included,  who  had  written : 

"  On  a  fait  la  dessus  mille  plaisanteries, 
Je  le  sais ;  il  poussait  de  I'herbe  aux  galeries ; 
Trente-six  varietes  de  champignons  malsains 
Dans  les  loges  tigraient  la  mousse  des  coussins." 

It  was  impossible  to  say  anything  very  spiteful  of  a  thea- 
tre which  had  remained  almost  empty  during  a  gratuitous 
performance  on  the  king's  birthday;  consequently  while  I 
frequented  the  Quartier-Latin  the  students  gave  it  a  wide 
berth.  When  they  were  not  disporting  themselves  at  Bobino, 
they  were  at  the  Chaumiere,  and  not  in  the  evening  only. 
Notwithstanding  the  enthusiastic  and  glowing  descriptions 
of  it  that  have  appeared  in  later  days,  the  place  was  simple 
enough.  There  was  a  primitive  shooting-gallery,  a  skittle- 
alley,  and  so  forth,  and  it  was  open  all  day.  The  students, 
after  having  attended  the  lectures  and  taken  a  stroll  in  the 
gardens  of  the  Luxembourg,  repaired  to  the  Chaumiere, 
where,  in  fine  weather,  they  were  sure  to  find  their  "  lady- 
loves"  sitting  at  work  demurely  under  the  trees.  The  re- 
freshments were  cheap,  and  one  spent  one's  time  until  the 
dinner  hour,  chatting,  singing,  or  strolling  about.  The  stu- 
dents were  very  clannish,  and  invariably  remained  in  their 
own  sets  at  the  Chaumiere.  There  were  tables  exclusively 
occupied  by  Bourguignons,  Angevins,  etc.  In  fact,  life  was 
altogether  much  simpler  and  more  individual  than  it  became 
later  on. 

One  of  our  great  treats  was  an  excursion  to  the  establish- 
ment of  Le  Pere  Bonvin,  where  the  student  of  to-day  would 


22  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

not  condescend  to  sit  down,  albeit  that  the  food  he  gets  in 
more  showy  places  is  not  half  as  good  and  three  times  as  dear. 
Le  Pere  Bonvin  was  popularly  supposed  to  be  in  the  country, 
though  it  was  not  more  than  a  mile  from  the  Barriere  Mont- 
parnasse.  The  "  country "  was  represented  by  one  or  two 
large  but  straggling  plots  of  erstwhile  grazing-lands,  but  at 
that  time  dotted  with  chalk-pits,  tumble-down  Avooden 
shanties,  etc.  Such  trees  as  the  tract  of  "  country "  could 
boast  were  on  the  demesne  of  Pere  Bonvin,  but  they  evi- 
dently felt  out  of  their  element,  and  looked  the  reverse  of 
flourishing.  The  house  of  Pere  Bonvin  was  scarcely  distin- 
guished in  colour  and  rickettiness  from  the  neighbouring 
constructions,  but  it  was  built  of  stone,  and  had  two  stories. 
The  fare  was  homely  and  genuine,  the  latter  quality  being  no 
small  recommendation  to  an  establishment  where  the  pro- 
lific "  bunny  "  was  the  usual  plat  de  resistance.  For  sophis- 
tication, where  the  rabbit  was  concerned,  was  part  of  the 
suburban  traiteur's  creed  from  time  immemorial,  and  the  fact 
of  the  former's  head  being  visible  in  the  dish  was  no  guaran- 
tee as  to  that  and  the  body  by  its  side  having  formed  one 
whole  in  the  flesh.  The  ubiquitous  collector  of  rags  and 
bottles  and  rabbits'  skins  was  always  anxiously  inquiring  for 
the  heads  also,  and  the  natural  conclusion  was  that,  thanks 
to  the  latter,  stewed  grimalkin  passed  muster  as  gibelotte. 
At  Pere  Bonvin's  no  such  suspicion  could  be  entertained  for 
one  moment ;  the  visitor  was  admitted  to  inspect  his  dinner 
Avhile  alive.  Pere  Bonvin  was  essentially  an  honest  man, 
and  a  character  in  his  way.  During  the  daytime  he  exer- 
cised the  functions  of  garde-champetre ;  at  night  he  became 
the  restaurateur. 

In  those  days  both  his  sons,  Francois  and  Leon,  were 
still  at  home,  but  the  former  had  apparently  already  made 
up  his  mind  not  to  follow  in  his  sire's  footsteps.  He  was  a 
compositor  by  trade,  but  the  walls  of  the  various  rooms 
showed  plainly  enough  that  he  did  not  aim  at  the  fame  of 
an  Aldine  or  an  Elzevir,  but  at  that  of  a  Jan  Steen  or  a 
Gerard  Dow.  He  has  fully  maintained  the  promise  given 
then.  His  pictures  rank  high  in  the  modern  French  school ; 
there  are  few  of  his  contemporaries  who  have  so  thoroughly 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  Dutch  masters.  Leon  Avas  a  mere 
lad,  but  a  good  many  among  the  habitues  of  Pere  Bonvin 
predicted  a  more  glorious  career  for  him  than  for  his  brother. 
The  word  "  heaven-born  musician  "  has  been  often  raisap- 


PERE  BONVIN'S.  23 

plied  ;  in  Leon's  instance  it  was  fully  justified.  The  predic- 
tions, however,  were  not  realized.  Whether  from  lack  of  con- 
fidence in  his  own  powers,  or  deterred  by  the  never-ceasing 
remonstrances  of  his  father.  Loon,  unlike  Francois,  did  not 
strike  out  for  himself,  but  continued  to  assist  in  the  business, 
only  turning  to  his  harmonium  in  his  spare  time,  or  towards 
the  end  of  the  evening,  when  all  distinction  between  guests 
and  hosts  ceased  to  exist,  and  the  whole  made  a  very  hapjjy 
family.  He  married  early.  I  lost  sight  of  him  altogether, 
until  about  '64  I  heard  of  his  tragic  end.  He  had  committed 
suicide. 


24  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTEE   II. 

My  introduction  to  the  celebrities  of  the  day — The  Cafe  de  Paris — The  old 
Prince  Demidotf — The  old  man's  mania — ilia  sons — The  furniture  and  at- 
tendance at  the  Cafe  de  Paris — Its  high  prices — A  mot  of  Alfred  de  Musset 
— The  cuisine — A  rebuke  of  the  proprietor  to  Balzac — A  version  by  one  of 
liis  predecessore  of  the  cause  of  Vatel's  suicide — Some  of  the  habitues — 
Their  intercourse  with  the  attendants— Their  courteous  behaviour  towards 
one  another — Le  veau  a  la  casserole — What  Alfred  de  Musset,  Balzac,  and 
Alexandre  Dumas  thought  of  it — A  silhouette  of  Alfred  de  Musset — His 
brother  Paul  on  his  election  as  a  member  of  the  xVcademie — A  silhouette 
of  Balzac,  between  sunset  and  sunrise — A  curious  action  against  the  pub- 
lishers of  an  almanack — A  full-length  portrait  of  Balzac— His  pecuniary 
embarrassments — His  visions  of  wealth  and  speculations — His  constant 
neglect  of  his  duties  as  a  National  Guard — His  troubles  in  consequence 
thereof — L 'Hotel  des  Haricots — Some  of  his  fellow-prisoners — Adam,  the 
composer  of  "Le  Postilion  de  Loujumeau" — Eugene  Sue;  his  portrait — 
His  dandyism — The  origin  of  the  Paris  Jockey  Cliib — Eugene  Sue  becomes 
a  member — The  success  of  "  Les  Mysteres  de  Paris" — The  origin  of  "Le 
Juif-Errant" — Sue  makes  himself  objectionable  to  the  members  of  the 
Jockey  Club — His  name  struck  ofi  the  list — His  decline  and  disappearance. 

If  these  notes  are  ever  published,  the  reader  will  gather 
from  the  foregoing  that,  unlike  many  Englishmen  brought 
up  in  Paris,  I  was  allowed  from  a  very  early  age  to  mix  with 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  As  I  intend  to  say  as  little 
as  possible  about  myself,  there  is  no  necessity  to  reveal  the 
reason  of  this  early  emancipation  from  all  restraint,  which 
resulted  in  my  being  on  familiar  terms  with  a  great  many 
celebrities  before  I  had  reached  my  twenty-first  year.  I  had 
no  claim  on  their  goodwill  beyond  my  admiration  of  their 
talents  and  the  fact  of  being  decently  connected.  The  con- 
stant companion  of  my  youth  was  hand  and  glove  with  some 
of  the  highest  in  the  land,  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told, 
wdth  a  good  many  of  the  lowest ;  but  the  man  who  Avas  seated 
at  the  table  of  Lord  Palmerston  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris  at 
8  p.m.,  could  afford  de  s'encanailler  at  2  a.m.  next  morning 
without  jeopardizing  his  social  status. 

The  Cafe  de  Paris  in  those  days  was  probably  not  only 
the  best  restaurant  in  Paris,  but  the  best  in  Europe.  Com- 
pared to  the  "  Freres  Proven9aux "  Vefour  and  Very,  the 


THE   CAFfi   DE   PARIS.  25 

Cafe  de  Paris  was  young ;  it  was  only  opened  on  July  15, 
1822,  in  the  vast  suite  of  apartments  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  Taitbout  and  Boulevard  de  Italiens,  formerly  occupied 
by  Prince  Demidofl,  whose  grandson  was  a  prominent  figure 
in  the  society  of  the  Second  Empire,  and  whom  I  knew  per- 
sonally. The  grandfather  died  before  I  was  born,  or,  at  any 
rate,  when  I  was  very  young ;  but  his  descendant  often  told 
me  about  him  and  his  two  sons,  Paul  and  Anatole,  both  of 
whom,  in  addition  to  his  vast  wealth,  inherited  a  good  many 
of  his  eccentricities.  The  old  man,  like  many  Eussian  grand 
seigneurs,  was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  could  turn  his  back 
upon  his  own  country,  lie  inhabited  Paris  and  Florence  in 
turns.  In  the  latter  place  he  kept  in  his  pay  a  company  of 
French  actors,  who  were  lodged  in  a  magnificent  mansion 
near  to  his  own,  and  who  enacted  comedies,  vaudevilles,  and 
comic  operas.  The  London  playgoer  may  remember  a  piece 
in  which  the  celebrated  Ravel  made  a  great  sensation  ;  it  was 
entitled  "  Les  Folies  Dramatiques,"  and  was  founded  upon 
the  mania  of  the  old  man.  For  he  was  old  before  his  time 
and  racked  with  gout,  scarcely  able  to  set  his  feet  to  the 
ground.  He  had  to  be  wheeled  in  a  chair  to  his  entertain- 
ments and  theatre,  and  often  fell  into  a  dead  faint  in  the 
middle  of  the  performance  or  duriug  the  dinner.  "It  made 
no  difference  to  his  guests,"  said  his  grandson ;  "  they 
wheeled  him  out  as  they  had  wheeled  him  in,  and  the  play 
or  repast  went  on  as  if  nothing  had  happened."  In  fact,  it 
would  seem  that  the  prince  would  have  been  very  angry  if 
they  had  acted  otherwise,  for  his  motto  was  that,  next  to 
enjoying  himself,  there  was  nothing  so  comfortable  as  to  see 
others  do  so.  Faithful  to  this  principle,  he  always  kept  some 
one  near,  whose  mission  it  was  to  enjoy  himself  at  his  ex- 
pense. He  was  under  no  obligation  whatsoever,  except  to 
give  an  account  of  his  amusements,  most  frequently  in  the 
dead  of  the  night,  Avhen  he  got  home,  because  the  old  prince 
suffered  from  insomnia ;  he  would  have  given  the  whole  of 
his  vast  possessions  for  six  hours'  unbroken  slumber. 

I  have  an  idea  that  the  three  generations  of  these  Demi- 
doffs  were  as  mad  as  March  hares,  though  I  am  bound  to  say, 
at  the  same  time,  that  the  form  this  madness  took  hurt  no 
one.  Personally,  I  only  knew  Prince  Anatole,  the  second  son 
of  the  old  man,  and  Paul,  the  latter's  nephew.  Paul's  father, 
of  the  same  name,  died  almost  immediately  after  his  son's 
birth.  He  had  a  mania  for  travelling,  and  rarely  stayed  in 
2 


26  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  same  spot  for  forty-eight  hours.  He  was  always  accom- 
panied by  a  numerous  suite  and  preceded  by  a  couple  of 
couriers,  who,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  had  orders  to  engage 
every  room  in  the  hotel  for  him.  Being  very  rich  and  as 
lavish  as  he  was  wealthy,  few  hotel  proprietors  scrupled  to 
turn  out  the  whole  of  their  guests  at  his  steward's  bidding 
and  at  a  moment's  notice.  Of  course,  people  refused  to  put 
up  with  such  cavalier  treatment ;  but  as  remonstrance  Avas  of 
no  avail,  they  often  brought  actions  for  damages,  which  they 
invariably  gained,  and  were  promptly  settled  by  Boniface, 
who  merely  added  them  to  Prince  Paul's  bill.  The  most 
comical  part  of  the  business,  however,  was  that  the  prince  as 
often  as  not  changed  his  mind  on  arriving  at  the  hotel,  and 
without  as  much  as  alighting,  continued  his  journey.  The 
bill  was  never  disputed.  Another  of  his  manias  was  that  his 
wife  should  wash  her  hands  each  time  she  touched  a  metal 
object.  For  a  Avhile  Princess  Demidoff  humoured  her  hus- 
band, but  she  found  this  so  terribly  irksome  that  she  at  last 
decided  to  wear  gloves,  and  continued  to  do  so  long  after  her 
widowhood. 

It  must  be  obvious  to  the  reader  that  this  digression  has 
little  or  no  raison  d'etre^  even  in  notes  that  do  not  profess  to 
tell  a  succinct  story ;  but  my  purpose  was  to  a  certain  extent 
to  vindicate  the  character  of  one  of  the  most  charming  women 
of  her  time,  who  had  the  misfortune  to  marry  what  was  un- 
doubtedly the  most  eccentric  member  of  the  family.  I  am 
referring  to  Princess  Anatole  Demidoff,  nee  Bonaparte,  the 
daughter  of  Jerome,  and  the  sister  of  Plon-Plon. 

To  return  to  the  Cafe  de  Paris  and  its  habitues.  First  of 
all,  the  place  itself  was  unlike  any  other  restaurant  of  that 
day,  even  unlike  its  neighbour  and  rival,  the  Cafe  Hardi,  at 
the  corner  of  the  Rue  Laffitte,  on  the  site  of  the  present 
Maison  d'Or.  There  was  no  undue  display  of  white  and 
gold ;  and  "  the  epicure  was  not  constantly  reminded  that, 
when  in  the  act  of  eating,  he  was  not  much  superior  to  the 
rest  of  humanity,"  as  Lord  Palmerston  put  it  when  com- 
menting upon  the  welcome  absence  of  mirrors.  The  rooms 
might  have  been  transformed  at  a  moment's  notice  into  pri- 
vate apartments  for  a  very  fastidious,  refined  family ;  for,  in 
addition  to  the  tasteful  and  costly  furniture,  it  was  the  only 
establishment  of  its  kind  in  Paris  that  was  carpeted  through- 
out, instead  of  having  merely  sanded  or  even  polished  floors, 
as  was  the  case  even  in  some  of  the  best  Paris  restaurants  as 


A  DISSERTATION  ON  RESTAURANTS.  27 

late  as  five  and  six  years  ago  (I  mean  in  the  seventies) — Big- 
non,  the  Cafe  Foy,  and  the  Lion  d'Or,  in  the  Rue  du  Helder, 
excepted.  The  attendance  was  in  every  respect  in  thorough 
keeping  with  the  grand  air  of  the  place,  and,  albeit  that 
neither  of  the  three  or  four  succeeding  proprietors  made  a 
fortune,  or  anything  approaching  it,  was  never  relaxed. 

On  looking  over  these  notes,  I  am  afraid  that  the  last 
paragraph  Avill  be  intelligible  only  to  a  small  section  of  my 
readers,  consequently  I  venture  to  explain.  Improved  com- 
munication has  brought  to  Paris  during  the  third  quarter  of 
the  century  a  great  many  Englishmen  who,  not  being  very 
familiar  either  with  French  or  Avitli  French  customs  in  their 
better  aspect,  have  come  to  look  upon  the  stir  and  bustle  of 
the  ordinary  Paris  restaurant,  upon  the  somewhat  free-and- 
easy  behaviour  of  the  waiters,  upon  their  eccentricities  of  dic- 
tion, upon  their  often  successful  attempts  at  "  swelling  "  the 
total  of  the  dinner-bill  as  so  much  matter  of  course.  The 
abbreviated  nomenclature  the  waiter  employs  in  recapitulat- 
ing the  bill  of  fare  to  the  patron  is  regarded  by  him  as  merely 
a  skilful  handling  of  the  tongue  by  the  native ;  the  chances 
are  ten  to  one  in  favour  of  the  patron  trying  to  imitate  the 
same  in  his  orders  to  the  attendant,  and  deriving  a  certain 
pride  from  being  successful.  The  stir  and  bustle  is  attributed 
to  the  more  lively  temperament  of  our  neighbours,  the  free- 
and-easy  behaviour  as  a  wish  on  the  waiter's  part  to  smooth 
the  linguistically  thorny  path  of  the  benighted  foreigner,  the 
attempt  to  multiply  items  as  an  irrepressible  manifestation  of 
French  greed. 

Wherever  these  things  occur,  nowadays,  the  patron  may 
be  certain  that  he  is  "  in  the  wrong  shop ;  "  but  in  the  days 
of  which  I  treat,  the  wrong  shop  was  legion,  especially  as  far 
as  the  foreigner  was  concerned ;  the  Cafe  de  Paris  and  the 
Cafe  Hardi  were  the  notable  exceptions.  Truly,  as  Alfred  do 
Musset  said  of  the  former,  "you  could  not  open  its  door  for 
less  than  fifteen  francs  ;  "  in  other  words,  the  prices  charged 
were  very  high ;  but  they  were  the  same  for  the  representa- 
tives of  the  nations  that  conquered  as  for  those  who  were  van- 
quished at  Waterloo.  It  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  the 
personnel  of  the  Cafe,  from  the  proprietor  and  manager  down- 
ward, were  utterly  oblivious  of  such  distinctions  of  nationality. 
Every  one  who  honoured  the  establishment  was  considered 
by  them  a  grand  seigneur,  for  whom  nothing  could  bo  too 
good.     I  remember  one  day  in  '45  or  '4G — for  M.  Martin 


28  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Guepet  was  at  the  head  of  affairs  then — Balzac  announcing 
the  advent  of  a  Eussian  friend,  and  asking  Guepet  to  put  his 
best  foot  forward.  "Assuredly,  monsieur,  we  will  do  so," 
was  the  answer,  "  because  it  is  simply  what  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  doing  every  day."  The  retort  was  sharp,  but  abso- 
lutely justified  by  facts.  One  was  never  told  at  the  Cafe  de 
Paris  that  this  or  that  dish  "  could  not  be  recommended," 
that  "  the  fish  could  not  be  guaranteed."  When  the  quality 
of  the  latter  was  doubtful,  it  did  not  make  its  appearance  on 
the  bill  of  fare.  A  propos  of  fish,  there  was  a  story  current 
in  the  Cafe  de  Paris  which  may  or  may  not  have  been  the 
invention  of  one  of  the  many  clever  literary  men  who  fore- 
gathered there.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  one  of  Guepet's 
predecessors — Angilbert  the  younger,  I  believe — had  cast  a 
doubt  upon  the  historical  accuracy  of  the  facts  connected 
with  the  tragic  death  of  Vatel,  the  renowned  chef  of  the 
Prince  de  Conde.  According  to  Angilbert,  Vatel  did  not 
throw  himself  upon  his  sword  because  the  fish  for  Louis 
XIV.'s  dinner  had  not  arrived,  but  because  it  had  arrived, 
been  cooked,  and  was  found  "  not  to  be  so  fresh  as  it  might 
be."  The  elimination  of  those  dishes  would  have  dis- 
turbed the  whole  of  the  economy  of  the  menu,  and  rather 
than  suffer  such  disgrace  Vatel  made  an  end  of  himself. 
"  For  you  see,  monsieur,"  Angilbert  is  supposed  to  have 
said,  "  one  can  very  well  arrange  a  perfect  dinner  without  fish, 
as  long  as  one  knows  beforehand ;  but  one  cannot  modify 
a  service  that  has  been  thought  out  with  it,  when  it  fails  at 
a  moment's  notice.  As  every  one  of  my  chefs  is  a  treasure, 
who  would  not  scruple  to  imitate  the  sacrifice  of  his  famous 
prototype ;  and  as  I  do  not  wish  to  expose  him  to  such  a 
heroic  but  inconvenient  death,  we  take  the  certain  for  the 
uncertain,  consequently  doubtful  fish  means  no  fish." 

Truth  or  fiction,  the  story  accurately  conveys  the  pride 
of  the  proprietors  in  the  unsullied  gastronomic  traditions  of 
the  establishment,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  they  were  ably 
seconded  in  that  respect  by  every  one  around  them,  even  to 
the  clientele  itself.  Not  a  single  one  of  the  latter  would  have 
called  the  waiters  by  their  names,  nor  would  these  have  vent- 
ured to  rehearse  the  names  of  the  dishes  in  a  kind  of  slang 
or  mutilated  French,  which  is  becoming  more  frequent  day 
by  day,  and  which  is  at  best  but  fit  as  a  means  of  communi- 
cation between  waiters  and  scullions.  Least  of  all,  would 
they  have  numbered  the  clients,  as  is  done  at  present.     A 


STILL  THE  CAF£  DE  PARIS.  29 

gentleman  sitting  at  table  'No.  5  was  "  the  gentleman  at  table 
No.  5," not  merely  "number  five."  There  was  little  need  for 
the  bellowing  and  shouting  from  one  end  of  the  room  to 
the  other,  because  the  head  waiter  himself  had  an  eye  every- 
where. The  word  "  addition,"  which  people  think  it  good 
taste  in  the  seventies  and  eighties  to  em^oloy  when  asking  for 
their  bills,  was  never  heard.  People  did  not  profess  to  know 
the  nature  of  the  arithmetical  operation  by  which  the  total 
of  their  liabilities  was  arrived  at ;  they  left  that  to  the  cashier 
and  the  rest  of  the  underlings. 

Xo  coal  or  gas  was  used  in  the  Cafe  de  Paris  :  lamps  and 
wood  fires  upstairs;  charcoal,  and  only  that  of  a  peculiar 
kind,  in  the  kitchens,  which  might  have  been  a  hundred 
miles  distant,  for  all  we  knew,  for  neither  the  rattling  of 
dishes  nor  the  smell  of  preparation  betrayed  their  vicinity. 
A  charming,  subdued  hum  of  voices  attested  the  presence  of 
two  or  three  score  of  human  beings  attending  to  the  inner 
man ;  the  idiotic  giggle,  the  affected  little  shrieks  of  the  shop- 
girl or  housemaid  promoted  to  be  the  companion  of  the  quasi- 
man  of  the  world  was  never  heard  there.  The  cabinet  par- 
ticulier  was  not  made  a  feature  of  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  and 
suppers  were  out  of  the  question.  Now  and  then  the  frank 
laughter  of  the  3'ounger  members  of  a  family  party,  and  that 
was  all.  As  a  rule,  however,  there  were  few  strangers  at  the 
Cafe  de  Paris,  or  what  are  called  chance  customers,  as  dis- 
tinct from  periodical  ones.  But  there  were  half  a  score  of 
tables  absolutely  sacred  from  the  invasion  of  no  matter  whom, 
such  as  those  of  the  Marquis  dia  Hallays,  Lord  Seymour,  the 
Marquis  de  St.  Cricq,  M.  Romieu,  Prince  Rostopchine,  Prince 
Soltikoff,  Dr.  Yeron,  etc.,  etc.  Lord  Palmerston,  when  in 
Paris,  scarcely  ever  dined  anywhere  else  than  at  the  Cafe  de 
Paris — of  course  I  mean  when  dining  at  a  public  establish- 
ment. 

Almost  every  evening  there  was  an  interchange  of  dishes 
or  of  wines  between  those  tables ;  for  instance.  Dr.  Veron,  of 
whom  I  will  have  a  good  deal  to  say  in  these  notes,  and  who 
was  very  fond  of  Musigny  vintage,  rarely  missed  offering 
some  to  the  Marquis  du  Hallays,  who,  in  his  turn,  sent  him 
of  the  finest  dishes  from  his  table.  For  all  these  men  not 
only  professed  to  eat  well,  but  never  to  suffer  from  indiges- 
tion. Their  gastronomy  was  really  an  art,  but  an  art  aided 
by  science  which  was  applied  to  the  simplest  dish.  One  of 
these  was  veau  a  la  casserole,  which  figured  at  least  three 


30  AN  ENGLISHMAN   IN  PARIS. 

times  a  week  on  the  bill  of  fare,  and  the  like  of  which  I 
have  never  tasted  elsewhere.  Its  recuperative  qualities  were 
vouched  for  by  such  men  as  Alfred  de  Musset,  Balzac,  and 
Alexandre  Dumas.  The  former  partook  of  it  whenever  it 
was  on  the  bill ;  the  others  often  came,  after  a  spell  of  hard 
work,  to  recruit  their  mental  and  bodily  strength  with  it,  and 
maintained  that  nothing  set  them  up  so  effectually. 

These  three  men  were  particularly  interesting  to  me,  and 
their  names  will  frequently  recur  in  these  notes.  I  was  very 
young,  and,  though  perhaps  not  so  enthusiastic  about  litera- 
ture as  I  was  about  painting  and  sculpture,  it  would  indeed 
have  been  surprising  if  I  had  remained  indifferent  to  the 
fascination  experienced  by  almost  every  one  in  their  society : 
for  let  me  state  at  once  that  the  great  poet,  the  great  play- 
wright, and  the  great  novelist  were  even  something  more  than 
men  of  genius ;  they  were  men  of  the  world,  and  gentlemen 
who  thought  it  worth  their  while  to  be  agreeable  compan- 
ions. Unlike  Victor  Hugo,  Lamartine,  Chateaubriand,  and 
Eugene  Sue,  all  of  whom  I  knew  about  the  same  time,  they 
did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  stand  mentally  aloof  from  ordi- 
nary mortals.  Alfred  de  Musset  and  Alexandre  Dumas 
were  both  very  handsome,  but  each  in  a  different  way.  With 
his  tall,  slim  figure,  auburn  wavy  hair  and  beard,  blue  eyes, 
and  finely-shaped  mouth  and  nose,  De  Musset  gave  one  the 
impression  of  a  dandy  cavalry  officer  in  mufti,  rather  than  of 
a  poet :  the  "  Miss  Byron "  which  Preault  the  sculptor  ap- 
plied to  him  was,  perhaps,  not  altogether  undeserved,  if 
judged  intellectually  and  physically  at  first  sight.  There 
was  a  feminine  grace  about  all  his  movements.  The  "  Con- 
fessions d'un  Enfant  du  Siecle,"  his  play,  "Frederic  and 
Bernerette,"  were  apt  to  stir  the  heart  of  women  rather  than 
that  of  men ;  but  was  it  not  perhaps  because  the  majority  of 
the  strong  sex  cannot  be  stirred  except  with  a  pole?  And 
the  poet  who  was  so  sensitive  to  everything  rough  as  to  leave 
invariably  the  coppers  given  to  him  in  exchange,  was  un- 
likely to  take  voluntarily  to  such  an  unwieldy  and  clumsy 
instrument  to  produce  his  effects.* 

*  This  reluctance  to  handle  coppers  proved  a  sore  grief  to  his  more  econom- 
ical and  less  fastidious  brother  Paul,  who  watched  like  a  guardian  angel  over 
his  junior,  whom  he  worehippcd.  It  is  on  record  tliat  ho  only  said  a  hai-sh 
word  to  him  once  in  his  life,  namely,  when  they  wanted  to  make  him,  Paul,  a 
member  of  the  Academic  Francaise.  "  C'est  bien  assez  d'un  immortel  dans  la 
famille,"  he  replied  to  those  who  counselled  him  to  stand.     Then,  turning  to 


WALKS  BEFORE  SUNRISE.  31 

Throughout  these  notes,  I  intend  to  abstain  carefully 
from  literary  Judgments.  I  am  not  comjjetent  to  enter  into 
them ;  but,  if  I  were,  I  should  still  be  reluctant  to  do  so  in 
the  case  of  Alfred  de  Musset,  who,  to  my  knowledge,  never 
questioned  the  talent  of  any  one.  De  Musset  improved  upon 
better  acquaintance.  He  was  apt  to  strike  one  at  first  as 
distant  and  supercilious.  He  was  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other,  simply  very  reserved,  and  at  the  best  of  times  very 
sad,  not  to  say  melancholy.  It  was  not  affectation,  as  has 
been  said  so  often  ;  it  was  his  nature.  The  charge  of  super- 
ciliousness arose  from  his  distressing  short-sightedness,  which 
compelled  him  to  stare  very  hard  at  people  without  the  least 
intention  of  being  offensive. 

I  have  said  that  Balzac  often  came,  after  a  spell  of  hard 
work,  to  recruit  his  forces  with  the  vemc  a  la  casserole  of  the 
Cafe  de  Paris ;  I  should  have  added  that  this  was  generally 
in  the  autumn  and  winter,  for,  at  the  end  of  the  spring  and 
during  the  summer,  the  dinner  hour,  seven,  found  Balzac 
still  a  j)risoner  at  home.  Few  of  his  acquaintances  and 
friends  ever  caught  sight  of  him,  they  were  often  in  total 
ignorance  of  his  whereabouts,  and  such  news  as  reached 
them  generally  came  through  Joseph  Mery,  the  poet  and 
novelist,  the  only  one  who  came  across  him  during  those 
periods  of  eclipse.  Mery  was  an  inveterate  gambler,  and 
spent  night  after  night  at  the  card-table.  He  rarely  left  it 
before  daybreak.  His  way  lay  past  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  and 
for  four  consecutive  mornings  he  had  met  Balzac  strolling 
leisurely  up  and  down,  dressed  in  a  pan  talon  a  pieds  (trousers 
not  terminating  below  the  ankle,  but  with  feet  in  them  like 
stockings),  and  frock  coat  with  velvet  facings.  The  second 
morning,  Mery  felt  surprised  at  the  coincidence ;  the  third, 
he  was  puzzled ;  the  fourth,  he  could  hold  out  no  longer, 
and  asked  Balzac  the  reason  of  these  nocturnal  perambula- 
tions round  about  the  same  spot.  Balzac  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  and  produced  an  almanack,  showing  that  the  sun 
did  not  rise  before  3.40.     "  I  am  being  tracked  by  the  officers 

his  brother,  "  Je  ne  comprends  pas  pourquoi  tu  t'es  fourr^  dans  cette  galerc,  si 
elle  est  assez  grandc  pour  inoi,  tu  dois  y  etre  joliment  a  I'^troit."  It  is  difficult 
to  imagine  a  greater  instance  of  brotherly  pride  and  admiration,  because  Paul 
de  Masset  was  by  no  means  a  nonentity,  only  from  a  very  early  age  lie  had  al- 
ways merged  his  individuality  in  that  of  Alfred.  To  some  one  who  once  re- 
marked upon  this  in  my  liearing,  he  answered,  "  Que  voulez-vous  ?  c'est  comma 
cela :  Alfred  a  eu  toujoura  la  moitie  du  lit,  seulement  la  moitie  etait  toujours 
prise  du  milieu." 


32  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

of  the  Tribunal  de  Commerce,  and  obliged  to  hide  myself 
during  tiie  day  ;  but  at  this  hour  I  am  free,  and  can  take  a 
walk,  for  as  long  as  the  sun  is  not  up  they  cannot  arrest 
me." 

I  remember  having  read  that  Ouvrard,  the  great  army 
contractor,  had  done  the  same  for  many  years  ;  nevertheless, 
he  was  arrested  one  day, — the  authorities  proved  that  the  al- 
manack was  wrong,  that  the  sun  rose  ten  minutes  earlier 
than  was  stated  therein.  He  brought  an  action  against  the 
compiler  and  publishers.     They  had  to  pay  him  damages. 

Though  literary  remuneration  was  not  in  those  days  what 
it  became  later  on,  it  was  sufficiently  large  to  make  it  diffi- 
cult to  explain  the  chronic  impecuniosity  of  Balzac,  though 
not  that  of  Dumas.  They  were  not  gamblers,  and  had  not 
the  terrible  fits  of  idleness  or  drinking  which  left  De  Musset 
stranded  every  now  and  again.  Lamartine  suffered  from  the 
same  complaint,  I  mean  impecuniosity.  There  is  proof  of 
Balzac's  industry  and  frugality  in  two  extracts  from  his  let- 
ters to  his  mother,  dated  Angouleme,  July,  1832,  when  he 
himself  was  thirty-two  years  old,  and  had  already  written 
half  a  dozen  masterpieces.  "  Several  bills  are  due,  and,  if  I 
cannot  find  the  money  for  them,  I  will  have  them  protested 
and  let  the  law  take  its  course.  It  will  give  me  breathing 
time,  and  I  can  settle  costs  and  all  afterwards." 

Meanwhile  he  works  eight  hours  a  day  at  "  Louis  Lam- 
bert," one  of  the  best  things  among  his  numberless  best 
things.  His  mother  sends  him  a  hundred  francs,  and,  per- 
haps with  the  same  pen  with  which  he  wrote  those  two  mar- 
vellous chapters  that  stand  out  like  a  couple  of  priceless 
rubies  from  among  the  mass  of  other  jewels,  he  thanks  her 
and  accounts  for  them.  "  For  the  copying  of  the  maps,  20 
f rs. ;  for  my  passport,  10  frs.  I  owed  15  frs.  for  discount  on 
one  of  my  bills,  and  15  frs.  on  my  fare.  15  frs.  for  flowers 
as  a  birthday  present.  Lost  at  cards,  10  frs.  Postage  and 
servant's  tips,  15  frs.     Total,  100  frs." 

But  these  ten  francs  have  not  been  lost  at  one  fell  swoop ; 
they  represent  his  bad  luck  at  the  gaming  telle  during  the 
whole  month  of  his  stay  at  Angouleme,  at  the  house  of  his 
friend  and  sister's  schoolfellow,  Madame  Zulma  Carraud, — 
hence,  something  like  seven  sous  (3^rf.)  per  day :  for  which 
extravagance  he  makes  up,  on  his  return  to  Paris,  by  plung- 
ing into  work  harder  than  ever.  He  goes  to  roost  at  7  p.m., 
*'  like  the  fowls ;  "  and  he  is  called  at  1  a.m.,  when  he  writes 


HONORE  DE  BALZAC.  33 

until  8  a.m.  He  takes  another  hour  and  a  half  of  sleep,  and, 
after  partaking  of  a  light  meal,  "  gets  into  his  collar  "  until 
four  in  the  afternoon.  After  that,  he  receives  a  few  friends, 
takes  a  bath,  or  goes  out,  and  immediately  he  has  swallowed 
his  dinner  he  "  turns  in,"  as  stated  above.  "  I  shall  be  com- 
pelled to  lead  this  nigger's  life  for  a  few  months  without 
stopping,  in  order  not  to  be  swami^ed  by  those  terrible  bills 
that  are  due." 

These  extracts  are  not  personal  recollections.  I  have  in- 
serted them  to  make  good  my  statement  that  Balzac  was 
neither  a  gambler,  a  drunkard,  nor  an  idler. 

"  How  does  he  spend  his  money  ?  "  I  asked  Mery,  when 
he  had  told  us  of  his  fourth  meeting  with  Balzac  on  that 
very  morning. 

"  In  sops  to  his  imagination,  in  balloons  to  the  land  of 
dreams,  which  balloons  he  constructs  with  his  hard- won 
earnings  and  inflates  with  the  essence  of  his  visions,  but 
which  nevertheless  will  not  rise  three  feet  from  the  earth," 
he  answered.  Then  he  went  on  explaining :  ''  Balzac  is 
firmly  convinced  that  every  one  of  his  characters  has  had,  or 
has  still,  its  counterpart  in  real  life,  notably  the  characters 
that  have  risen  from  humble  beginnings  to  great  wealth ; 
and  he  thinks  that,  having  worked  out  the  secret  of  their 
success  on  paper,  he  can  put  it  in  practice.  He  embarks  on 
the  most  harum-scarum  speculations  without  the  slightest 
practical  knowledge;  as,  for  instance,  when  he  drew  the 
plans  for  his  country-house  at  the  Jardies  (Ville  d'Avray), 
and  insisted  upon  the  builder  carrying  them  out  in  every  re- 
spect while  he  was  away.  When  the  place  was  finished  there 
was  not  a  single  staircase.  Of  course,  they  had  to  put  them 
outside,  and  he  maintained  that  it  was  part  of  his  original 
plan ;  but  he  had  never  given  a  thought  to  the  means  of 
ascent.  But  here  is  Monsieur  Louis  Lurine.  If  you  would 
like  an  idea  of  Balzac's  impracticability,  let  him  tell  you  what 
occurred  between  Balzac  and  Kugelmann  a  few  months  ago." 

Kugelmann  was  at  that  time  publishing  a  very  beautifully 
illustrated  work,  entitled  "  Les  lines  de  Paris,"  which  Louis 
Lurine  was  editing.  AYe  were  standing  outside  the  Cafe 
Eiche,  and  I  knew  Lurine  by  sight.  Mery  introduced  me  to 
him.  After  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  Lurine  told  us  the 
following  story.  Of  course,  many  years  have  elapsed  since, 
but  I  think  I  can  trust  to  my  memory  in  this  instance. 

"  I  had  suggested,"  said  Lurine,  "  that  Balzac  should  do 


34  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  Rue  de  Richelieu,  and  we  sent  for  him.  I  did  not  want 
more  than  half  a  sheet,  so  imagine  my  surprise  when  Balzac 
named  his  conditions,  viz.,  five  thousand  francs,  something 
over  six  hundred  francs  a  page  of  about  six  hundred  words. 
Kugelmann  began  to  yell ;  I  simply  smiled ;  seeing  which, 
Balzac  said,  as  soberly  as  possible,  '  You'll  admit  that,  in 
order  to  depict  a  landscape  faithfully,  one  should  study  its 
every  detail.  Well,  how  would  you  have  me  describe  the  Rue 
de  Richelieu,  convey  an  idea  of  its  commercial  aspect,  unless 
I  visit,  one  after  the  other,  the  various  establishments  it  con- 
tains ?  Suppose  I  begin  by  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens :  I'd  be 
bound  to  take  my  dejeuner  at  the  Cafe  Cardinal,  I  would  have 
to  buy  a  couple  of  scores  at  Brandus',  a  gun  at  the  gunsmith's 
next  door,  a  breastpin  at  the  next  shop.  Could  I  do  less  than 
order  a  coat  at  the  tailor's,  a  pair  of  boots  at  the  bootmaker's  ? ' 

"  I  cut  him  short.  '  Don't  go  any  further,'  I  said,  '  or 
else  we'll  have  you  in  at  "  Compagnie  des  Indes,"  and,  as 
both  lace  and  Indian  shawls  have  gone  up  in  price,  we'll  be 
bankrupt  before  we  know  where  we  are.' 

"  Consequently,"  concluded  Lurine,  "  the  thing  fell 
through)  and  we  gave  the  commission  to  Gruenot-Lacointe, 
who  has  done  the  thing  very  well  and  has  written  twice  the 
pages  Balzac  was  asked  for,  without  buying  as  much  as  a  pair 
of  gloves." 

When  Balzac  was  not  being  harassed  by  the  officials  of 
the  Tribunal  de  Commerce,  he  had  to  dodge  the  authorities 
of  the  National  Guards,  who  generally  had  a  warrant  against 
him  for  neglect  of  duty.  Unlike  his  great  contemporary 
Dumas,  Balzac  had  an  invincible  repugnance  to  play  the 
amateur  warrior — a  repugnance,  by-the-way,  to  which  we  owe 
one  of  the  most  masterly  portraits  of  his  wonderful  gallery, 
that  of  the  self-satisfied,  bumptious  ,detestable  bourgeoise,  who 
struts  about  in  his  uniform ;  I  am  alluding  to  Crevel  of  "  La 
Cousine  Bette."  But  civil  discipline  could  take  no  cogni- 
zance of  the  novelist's  likes  and  dislikes,  and,  after  repeated 
"  notices  "  and  "  warnings,"  left  at  his  registered  domicile,  his 
incarceration  was  generally  decided  upon.  As  a  rule,  this 
happened  about  half  a  dozen  times  in  a  twelvemonth. 

The  next  thing  was  to  catch  the  refractory  national  guard, 
which  was  not  easy,  seeing  that,  in  order  to  avoid  an  enforced 
sojourn  at  the  Hotel  des  Haricots,*  Balzac  not  only  disap- 

*  The  name  of  the  military  prison  which  was  originally  built  on  the  site  of 


BALZAC  AND  THE  NATIONAL  GUARD.      35 

peared  from  his  usual  haunts,  but  left  his  regular  domicile, 
and  took  an  apartment  elsewhere  under  an  assumed  name. 
On  one  occasion,  at  a  small  lodgings  which  he  had  taken  near 
his  publisher,  Hippolyte  Souverain,  under  the  name  of  Ma- 
dame Dupont,  Leon  Gozlan,  having  found  him  out,  sent  him 
a  letter  addressed  to  "  Madame  Dupont,  nee  Balzac." 

The  sergeant-major  of  Balzac's  company  had  undoubtedly 
a  grudge  against  him.  He  happened  to  be  a  perfumer,  and 
ever  since  the  publication  and  success  of  "  Cesar  Birotteau  " 
the  Paris  perfumers  bore  Balzac  no  goodwill.  That  particu- 
lar one  had  sworn  by  all  his  essences  and  bottles  that  he  would 
lay  hands  on  the  recalcitrant  private  of  his  company  in  the 
streets,  for  only  under  such  conditions  could  he  arrest  him. 
To  Avatch  at  Balzac's  ordinary  domicile  was  of  no  use,  and, 
when  he  had  discovered  his  temporary  residence,  he  had  to 
lure  him  out  of  it,  because  the  other  was  on  his  guard. 

One  morning,  while  the  novelist  was  hard  at  work,  his  old 
housekeeper,  whom  he  always  took  with  him,  came  to  tell 
him  that  there  was  a  large  van  downstairs  with  a  case  ad- 
dressed to  him.  "  How  did  they  find  me  out  here  ? "  ex- 
claimed Balzac,  and  despatched  the  dame  to  gather  further 
particulars.  In  a  few  moments  she  returned.  The  case  con- 
tained an  Etruscan  vase  sent  from  Italy,  but,  seeing  that  it  had 
been  knocking  about  for  the  last  three  days  in  every  quarter 
of  Paris  in  the  carman's  efforts  to  find  out  the  consignee,  the 
former  was  anxious  that  M.  Balzac  should  verify  the  intact 
condition  of  the  package  before  it  was  unloaded.  Balzac  fell 
straight  into  the  trap.  Giving  himself  no  time  even  to  ex- 
change his  dressing-gown,  or  rather  his  monk's  frock  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  wearing,  for  a  coat,  or  his  slippers  for  a  pair 
of  boots,  he  rushed  downstairs,  watching  with  a  benign  smile 
the  carrier  handling  most  delicately  the  treasure  that  had 
come  to  him. 

"  Caught  at  last,"  said  a  stentorian  vice  behind  him,  and 
dispelling  the  dream  as  its  owner  laid  his  hand  on  the  novel- 
ist's shoulder,  while  a  gigantic  companion  planted  himself 
in  front  of  the  street  door  and  cut  off  all  retreat  that  way. 

"  With  a  refinement  of  cruelty,  which  in  the  eyes  of  pos- 
terity will  considerably  diminish  the  glory  of  his  victory  " — 
I  am  quoting  Balzac's  own  words  as  he  related  the  scene  to 

the  former  College  Montaigu,  where  the  scholars  were  almost  exclusively  fed 
on  haricot  beans.  Throughout  its  removals  the  prison  preserved  its  nickname. 
— Editob. 


36  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

us  at  the  Hotel  des  Haricots — the  sergeant-major  perfumer 
would  not  allow  his  prisoner  to  change  his  clothes,  and  while 
the  van  with  the  precious  Etruscan  vase  disappeared  in  the 
distance,  Balzac  was  hustled  into  a  cab  to  spend  a  week  in 
durance  vile,  where  on  that  occasion  he  had  the  company  of 
Adolphe  Adam,  the  composer  of  "  Le  Postilion  de  Lonju- 
meau." 

However,  "  les  jours  de  f6te  6taient  passes,"  and  had  been 
for  the  last  five  years,  ever  since  the  Hotel  des  Haricots  had 
been  transferred  from  the  town  mansion  of  the  De  Bazan- 
courts  in  the  Rue  des  Fosses-Saint-Germain  to  its  then  locale 
near  the  Orleans  railway  station.  There  were  no  more  ban- 
quets in  the  refectory  as  there  had  been  of  yore.  Each  pris- 
oner had  his  meals  in  his  cell.  Joseph  Mery,  Nestor  Roqne- 
plan,  and  I  were  admitted  as  the  clock  struck  two,  and  had 
to  leave  exactly  an  hour  afterwards.  It  was  during  this  visit 
that  Balzac  enacted  the  scene  for  us  which  I  have  endeavoured 
to  describe  above,  and  reminded  Mery  of  the  last  dinner  he 
had  given  to  Dumas,  Jules  Sandeau,  and  several  others  in 
the  former  prison,  which  dinner  cost  five  hundred  francs. 
Eugene  Sue,  who  was  as  unwilling  as  Balzac  to  perform  his 
civic  duties,  had  had  three  of  his  own  servants  to  Avait  upon 
him  there,  and  some  of  his  plate  and  silver  brought  to  his 
cell. 

Seeing  that  the  name  of  the  celebrated  author  of  "  Les 
Mysteres  de  Paris  "  has  presented  itself  in  the  course  of  these 
notes,  I  may  just  as  well  have  done  with  him,  for  he  forms 
part  of  the  least  agreeable  of  my  recollections.  He  was  also 
an  habitue  of  the  Cafe  de  Paris.  A  great  deal  has  been 
written  about  him  ;  what  has  never  been  sufficiently  insisted 
upon  was  the  inveterate  snobbishness  of  the  man.  When  I 
first  knew  him,  about  '42-'43,  he  was  already  in  the  zenith 
of  his  glory,  but  I  had  often  heard  others  mention  his  name 
before  then,  and  never  very  favourably.  His  dandyism  was 
offensive,  mainly  because  it  did  not  sit  naturally  upon  him. 
It  did  not  spring  from  an  innate  refinement,  but  from  a  love 
of  show,  although  his  father,  who  had  been  known  to  some 
of  the  son's  familiars,  was  a  worthy  man,  a  doctor,  and,  it 
appears,  a  very  good  doctor,  but  somewhat  brusque,  like  our 
own  Abernethy ;  still  much  more  of  a  gentleman  at  heart 
than  the  son.  He  did  not  like  Eugene's  extravagance,  and 
when  the  latter,  about  '24,  launched  out  into  a  cabriolet,  he 
shipped  hira  off  on  one  of  the  king's  vessels,  as  a  surgeon ; 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  FRENCH  JOCKY  CLUB.        37 

to  which  fact  French  literature  owed  the  first  novels  of  the 
future  author  of  "  Les  Mysteres  de  Paris  "  and  "  Le  Juif- 
Errant." 

But  the  father  was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  and  Eugene, 
who  had  never  taken  kindly  to  a  seafaring  life,  returned  to 
Paris,  to  spend  his  inheritance  and  to  resume  his  old  habits, 
which  made  one  of  his  acquaintances  say  that  "  le  pere  and 
le  fils  had  both  entered  upon  a  better  life."  It  appears  that, 
though  somewhat  of  a  jjoseur  from  the  very  beginning,  he 
was  witty  and  amusing,  and  readily  found  access  to  the  circle 
that  frequented  the  gardens  of  the  Tivoli  and  the  Cafe  de 
Paris.*  They,  in  their  turn,  made  him  a  member  of  the 
Jockey  Club  when  it  was  founded,  which  kindness  they 
unanimously  regretted,  as  will  be  seen  directly. 

The  Tivoli  gardens,  though  utterly  forgotten  at  present, 
was  in  reality  the  birthplace  of  the  French  Jocky  Club. 
About  the  year  1833  a  man  named  Bryon,  one  of  whose  de- 
scendants keeps,  at  the  hour  I  write,  a  large  livery  stables 
near  the  Grand  Cafe,  opened  a  pigeon-shooting  gallery  in  the 
Tivoli ;  the  pigeons,  from  what  I  have  heard,  mainly  con- 
sisting of  quails,  larks,  and  other  birds.  The  pigeons  shot  at 
were  wooden  ones,  poised  up  high  in  the  air,  but  motionless, 
as  we  still  see  them  at  the  suburban  fairs  around  Paris. 
Seven  years  before,  Bryon  had  started  a  "  society  of  amateurs 
of  races,"  to  whom,  for  a  certain  consideration,  he  let  a  mov- 
able stand  at  private  meetings,  for  there  were  no  others  until 
the  Society  for  the  Encouragement  of  breeding  French 
Horses  started  operations  in  1834.  But  the  deliberations  at 
first  took  place  at  Bryon's  place  in  the  Tivoli  gardens,  and 
continued  there  until,  one  day,  Bryon  asked  the  fourteen  or 
fifteen  members  why  they  should  not  have  a  locale  of  their 
own ;  the  result  was  that  they  took  modest  quarters  in  the 
Eue  du  Helder,  or  rather  amalgamated  with  a  small  club  lo- 
cated there  under  the  name  of  Le  Bouge  (The  Den) ;  for 
Lord  Seymour,  the  Duke  de  Nemours,  Prince  Demidoff,  and 
the  rest  were  sufficiently  clear-sighted  to  perceive  that  a 
Jockey  Club  governed  on  the  English  principle  was  entirely 
out  of  the  question.  That  Avas  the  origin  of  the  French 
Jockey  Club,  which,  after  various  migrations,  is,  at  the  time 


*  There  were  two  Tivoli  jrardens,  both  in  the  same  neighbourhood,  the  site 
of  the  present  Quartier  de  I'Europe.  The  author  is  alluding  to  the  second,  so 
often  mentioned  in  the  novels  of  i*aul  de  Kock. — Editor. 


38  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

of  writing,  magnificently  housed  in  one  of  the  palatial  man- 
sions of  the  Eue  Scribe.  As  a  matter  of  course,  some  of  the 
fashionable  habitues  of  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  though  not  know- 
ing a  fetlock  from  a  pastern,  were  but  too  pleased  to  join  an 
institution  which,  with  the  mania  for  everything  English  in 
full  swing,  then  conferred  as  it  were  upon  its  members  a 
kind  of  patent  of  "  good  form,"  and,  above  all,  of  exclusive- 
uess,  for  which  some,  even  amidst  the  flesh-pots  of  the  cele- 
brated restaurant,  longed.  Because,  it  must  be  remembered, 
though  the  majority  of  the  company  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris 
were  very  well  from  the  point  of  view  of  birth  and  social  po- 
sition, there  was  no  possibility  of  excluding  those  who  could 
lay  no  claim  to  such  distinctions,  provided  they  had  the 
money  to  pay  their  reckoning,  and  most  of  them  had  more 
than  enough  for  that.  It  appears  that  Eugene  Sue  was  not 
so  objectionable  as  he  became  afterwards,  when  the  wonder- 
ful success  of  his  "  Mysteres  de  Paris  "  and  the  "  Juif-Errant " 
had  turned  his  head ;  he  was  made  an  original  member  of 
the  club.  Election  on  the  nomination  by  three  sponsors  was 
not  necessary  then.  That  article  was  not  inserted  in  the 
rules  until  two  years  after  the  foundation  of  the  Paris  Jockey 
Club. 

Of  the  success  attending  Sue's  two  best-known  works,  I  can 
speak  from  personal  experience  ;  for  I  was  old  enough  to  be 
impressed  by  it,  and  foolish  enough  to  rank  him,  on  account 
of  it,  with  Balzac  and  Dumas,  perhaps  a  little  higher  than 
the  former.  After  the  lapse  of  many  years,  I  can  only  con- 
sole myself  for  my  infatuation  with  the  thought  that  thou- 
sands, of  far  greater  intellectual  attainments  than  mine,  were 
in  the  same  boat,  for  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  furore 
created  by  "  Les  Mysteres  de  Paris  "  was  confined  to  one 
class,  and  that  class  the  worst  educated  one.  While  it  ap- 
peared in  serial  form  in  the  Debats,  one  had  to  bespeak  the 
paper  several  hours  beforehand,  because,  unless  one  sub- 
scribed to  it,  it  was  impossible  to  get  it  from  the  news-vendors. 
As  for  the  reading-rooms  where  it  was  supposed  to  be  kept, 
the  proprietors  frankly  laughed  in  your  face  if  you  happened 
to  ask  for  it,  after  you  had  paid  your  two  sous  admission. 
"  Monsieur  is  joking.  We  have  got  five  copies,  and  we  let 
them  out  at  ten  sous  each  for  half  an  hour:  that's  the  time  it 
takes  to  read  M.  Sue's  story.  We  have  one  copy  here,  and  if 
monsieur  likes  to  take  his  turn  he  may  do  so,  though  he  will 
probably  have  to  wait  for  three  or  four  hours." 


EUGENE  SUE.  39 

At  last  the  guileless  demoiselle  behind  the  counter  found 
even  a  more  effective  way  of  fleecing  her  clients.  The  cabi- 
nets de  lecture  altered  their  fees,  and  the  two  sous,  which 
until  then  had  conferred  the  right  of  staying  as  long  as  one 
liked,  were  transformed  into  the  price  of  admission  for  one 
hour.  Each  reader  received  a  ticket  on  entering,  stating  the 
time,  and  the  shrewd  cassiere  made  the  round  every  ten  min- 
utes. I  may  say  without  exaggeration  that  the  days  on  which 
the  instalment  of  fiction  was  "  crowded  out,"  there  was  a 
general  air  of  listlessness  about  Paris.  And,  after  the  first 
few  weeks,  this  happened  frequently ;  for  by  that  time  the 
Bertius  had  become  quite  as  clever  as  their  formidable  rival, 
the  proprietor  and  editor  of  the  Constitutionnel,  the  famous 
Dr.  Yeron,  whom  I  have  already  mentioned,  but  of  whom  I 
shall  have  occasion  to  speak  again  and  again,  for  he  was  one 
of  the  most  notable  characters  in  the  Paris  of  my  early  man- 
hood. But  to  return  for  a  moment  to  "Les  Mysteres  de 
Paris  "  and  its  author. 

The  serial,  then,  was  frequently  interrupted  for  one  or 
two  days,  without  notice,  however,  to  the  readers ;  on  its  re- 
sumption there  was  a  nice  little  paragraph  to  assure  the 
"  grandes  dames  de  par  le  monde,"  as  well  as  their  maids, 
with  regard  to  the  health  of  M.  Sue,  Avho  was  supposed  to  have 
been  too  ill  to  work.  The  public  took  all  this  au  grand  serieiix. 
They  either  chose  to  forget,  or  were  ignorant  of  the  fact,  that 
a  novel  of  that  kind,  especially  in  the  early  days  of  serial 
feuilleton,  was  not  delivered  to  the  editor  bit  by  bit.  Sue, 
great  man  as  he  was,  would  not  have  dared  to  inaugurate  the 
system  only  adopted  somewhat  later  by  Alexandre  Dumas  the 
Elder,  namely,  that  of  writing  "from  hand  to  mouth." 
These  paragraphs  served  a  dual  purpose — they  whetted  the 
lady  and  other  readers'  interest  in  the  author,  and  informed 
the  indifferent  ones  how  great  that  interest  was.  For  these 
paragraphs  were,  or  professed  to  be, — I  really  believe  they 
were, — the  courteous  replies  to  hundreds  of  kind  inquiries 
which  the  author  "  could  not  acknowledge  separately  for  lack 
of  time." 

But  this  was  not  all.  There  was  really  a  good  excuse  for 
Eugene  Sue  "  se  prenant  au  serieux,"  seeing  that  some  of  the 
most  eminent  magistrates  looked  upon  him  in  that  light  and 
opened  a  correspondence  with  him,  submitting  their  ideas 
about  reforming  such  criminals  as  "  le  maitre  d'ecole,"  and 
praising  Prince  Rodolph,  or  rather  Eugene  Sue  under  that 


40  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

name,  for  "  his  laudable  efforts  in  the  cause  of  humanity." 
In  reality,  Sue  was  in  the  position  of  Moliere's  "  bourgeois 
geutilhorame  "  who  spoke  prose  without  being  aware  of  it ;  for 
there  was  not  the  smallest  evidence  from  his  former  Avork  that 
he  intended  to  inaugurate  any  crusade,  either  socialistic  or 
philanthropic,  when  he  began  his  "  Mysteres  de  Paris."  He 
simply  wanted  to  write  a  stirring  novel.  But,  unlike  M.  Jour- 
dain,  he  did  not  plead  ignorance  of  his  own  good  motives  when 
congratulated  upon  them.  On  the  contrary,  he  gravely  and 
officially  replied  in  the  Debats  without  winking.  Some  of  the 
papers,  not  to  be  outdone,  gravely  recounted  how  whole  fami- 
lies had  been  converted  from  their  evil  ways  by  the  perusal  of 
the  novel ;  ho w  others,  after  supper,  had  dropped  on  their  knees 
to  pray  for  their  author ;  how  one  working  man  had  exclaimed, 
"  You  may  say  what  you  like,  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if  Provi- 
dence sent  many  men  like  M.  Sue  in  this  world  to  take  up  the 
cudgels  of  the  honest  and  struggling  ai'tisan."  Thereupon 
Beranger,  who  did  not  like  to  be  forgotten  in  this  chorus  of 
praise,  paid  a  ceremonious  visit  to  Sue,  and  between  the  two 
they  assumed  the  protectorship  of  the  horny-handed  son  of  toil. 
It  must  not  be  supposed  that  I  am  joking  or  exaggerat- 
ing, and  that  the  engoument  was  confined  to  the  lower  classes, 
and  to  provincial  and  metropolitan  faddists.  Such  men  as  !M. 
de  Lourdoueix,  the  editor  of  the  Gazette  de  France,  fell  into 
the  trap.  I  have  pointed  out  elsewhere  that  the  republicans 
and  socialists  of  those  days  were  not  necessarily  godless  folk, 
and  M.  de  Lourdoueix  fitly  concluded  that  a  socialistic  writer 
like  Sue  might  become  a  powerful  weapon  in  his  hands  against 
the  Jesuits.  So  he  went  to  the  novelist,  and  gave  him  a  com- 
mission to  that  effect.  The  latter  accepted,  and  conceived  the 
plot  of  "  The  Wandering  Jew."  When  it  was  sketched  out, 
he  communicated  it  to  the  editor ;  but  whether  that  gentle- 
man had  reconsidered  the  matter  in  the  interval,  or  whether 
he  felt  frightened  at  the  horribly  tragic  conception  with 
scarcely  any  relief,  he  refused  the  novel,  unless  it  was  modi- 
fied to  a  great  extent  and  its  blood-curdling  episodes  softened. 
The  author,  taking  himself  au  serieux  this  time  as  a  religious 
reformer,  declined  to  alter  a  line.  Dr.  Yeron  got  wind  of  the 
affair,  bought  the  novel  as  it  stood,  and,  by  dint  of  a  system 
of  puffing  and  advertising  which  would  even  make  a  modern 
American  stare,  obtained  a  success  with  it  in  the  Constitu- 
tionnelyf\i\ch.  equalled  if  it  did  not  surpass  that  of  the  Debats 
with  the  "  Mysteres." 


DE  MUSSET  AND  SUE.  41 

"  It  is  very  amusing  indeed,"  said  George  Sand  one  night, 
"  but  there  are  too  many  animals.  I  hope  we  shall  soon  get 
out  of  this  menagerie."  Xevertheless,  she  frankly  admitted 
that  she  would  not  like  to  miss  an  instalment  for  ever  so 
much. 

'^lean while  Sue  posed  and  posed,  not  as  a  writer — for,  like 
Horace  Walpole,  he  was  almost  ashamed  of  the  title — but  as 
"  a  man  of  the  world  "  who  knew  nothing  about  literature, 
but  whose  wish  to  benefit  humanity  had  been  greater  than  his 
reluctance  to  enter  the  lists  with  such  men  as  Balzac  and  Du- 
mas. After  his  dinner  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  he  would  gravely 
stand  on  the  steps  smoking  his  cigar  and  listen  to  the  conver- 
sation with  an  air  of  superiority  Avithout  attempting  to  take 
part  in  it.  His  mind  was  supposed  to  be  far  away,  devising 
schemes  for  the  social  and  moral  improvement  of  his  fellow- 
creatures.  These  philanthropic  mitsings  did  not  prevent  him 
from  paying  a  great  deal  of  attention — too  much  perhaps — 
to  his  personal  appearance,  for  even  in  those  days  of  beaux, 
bucks,  and  dandies,  of  Counts  d'Orsay  and  others,  men  could 
not  help  thinking  Eugene  Sue  overdressed.  He  rarely  ap- 
peared without  spurs  to  his  boots,  and  he  would  no  more  have 
done  without  a  new  pair  of  Avhite  kid  gloves  every  evening 
than  without  his  dinner.  Other  men,  like  Nestor  de  Eoque- 
plan,  Alfred  de  Musset,  Major  Fraser,  all  of  whose  names  will 
frequently  recur  in  these  notes,  did  not  mind  having  their 
gloves  cleaned,  though  the  process  was  not  so  perfect  as  it  is 
now ;  Eugene  Sue  averred  that  the  smell  of  cleaned  gloves 
made  him  ill.  Alfred  de  Musset,  who  could  be  very  imperti- 
nent when  he  liked,  but  who  was  withal  a  very  good  fellow, 
said  one  day  :  "  Mais  enfin,  mon  ami,  9a  ne  sent  pas  pire  que 
les  bouges  que  vous  nous  depeignez.  N'y  seriez  vous  jamais 
alle  ?  " 

In  short,  several  years  before  the  period  of  which  I  now 
treat,  Eugene  Sue  had  begun  to  be  looked  upon  coldly  at  the 
Jockey  Club  on  account  of  the  "  airs  he  gave  himself ; "  and 
three  years  before  the  startling  success  of  his  work,  he  had 
altogether  ceased  to  go  there,  though  he  Avas  still  a  member, 
and  remained  so  nominally  until  '47,  when  his  name  was  re- 
moved from  the  list  in  accordance  with  Kule  5.  Owing  to 
momentary  pecuniary  embarrassments,  he  had  failed  to  pay 
his  subscription.  It  may  safely  be  asserted  that  this  was 
merely  a  pretext  to  get  rid  of  him,  because  such  stringent 
measures  are  rarely  resorted  to  at  any  decent  club,  whether  in 


42  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

London  or  Paris,  and  least  of  all  at  the  Jockey  Clubs  there. 
The  fact  was,  that  the  members  did  not  care  for  a  fellow- 
member  whose  taste  differed  so  materially  from  their  own, 
whose  daily  avocations  and  pursuits  had  nothing  in  common 
with  theirs ;  for  though  Eugene  Sue  as  early  as  1835  had 
possessed  a  race-horse,  named  Mameluke,  which  managed  to 
come  in  a  capital  last  at  Maisons-sur-Seine  (afterwards  Mai- 
sons- Lafitte)  ;  though  he  had  ridden  his  liaque  every  day  in 
the  Bois,  and  driven  his  cabriolet  every  afternoon  in  the 
Champs-Elysees,  the  merest  observer  could  easily  perceive 
that  all  this  was  done  for  mere  show,  to  use  the  French  ex- 
pression, "pose."  As  one  of  the  members  observed,  "M. 
Sue  est  toujours  trop  habille,  trop  carosse,  et  surtout  trop 
^peronne." 

M.  Sue  was  all  that,  and  though  the  Jockey  Club  at  that 
time  was  by  no  means  the  unobtrusive  body  of  men  it  is  to- 
day, its  excesses  and  eccentricities  were  rarely  indulged  in 
public,  except  perhaps  in  carnival  time.  A  M.  de  Chateau- 
villard  might  take  it  into  his  head  to  play  a  game  of  billiards 
on  horseback,  or  M.  de  Machado  might  live  surrounded  by  a 
couple  of  hundred  parrots  if  he  liked ;  none  of  these  fancies 
attracted  the  public's  notice  :  M.  Sue,  by  his  very  profession, 
attracted  too  much  of  it,  and  brought  a  great  deal  of  it  into 
the  club  itself;  hence,  when  he  raised  a  violent  protest 
against  his  expulsion  and  endeavoured  to  neutralize  it  by 
sending  in  his  resignation,  the  committee  maintained  its 
original  decision.  A  few  years  after  this,  Eugene  Sue  disap- 
peared from  the  Paris  horizon. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Alexandre  Dumas  pere — Why  he  made  himself  particularly  agreeable  to  Eng- 
lishmen— His  way  of  silencing  people — The  pursuit  he  loved  best  next  to 
literatui'e — He  has  the  privilege  of  going  down  to  the  kitchens  of  the  Cafe 
dc  Paris — No  one  questions  his  literary  genius,  some  question  his  culinary 
capacities — Dr.  Veron  and  his  cordon-bleu^Dr.  Veron's  reasons  for  dining 
out  instead  of  at  home — Dr.  Veron's  friend,  the  philanthropist,  who  does 
not  go  to  the  theatre  because  he  objects  to  be  hurried  with  his  emotions — 
Dr.  Veron,  instigated  by  his  cook,  accuses  Dumas  of  having  coUaborateurs 
in  preparing  his  dishes  as  he  v,-as  known  to  have  collaborateurs  in  his  lit- 
erary work — Duma.s'  wrath — He  invites  us  to  a  dinner  which  shall  be 
wholly  cooked  by  him  in  the  presence  of  a  delegate  to  be  chosen  by  the 

fuests" — The  lot  falls  upon  me— Dr.  Veron  and  Sophie  make  the  amende 
onorahle — A  dinner-party  at  Veron's — A  curious  lawsuit  in  connection 
with  Weber's  "  Freyschutz" — Nestor  Roqueplan,  who  became  the  successor 
of  the  defendant  in  the  ease,  suggests  a  way  out  of  it— Leon  Pillet  virtually 
adopts  it  and  wins  the  day — A  smiilar  plan  adopted  years  before  by  a  fire- 
man on  duty  at  the  opera,' on  being  tried  by  court-martial  for  having  fallen 
asleep  during  the  performance  of  "  Guido  et  Genevra" — Firemen  not  bad 
judges  of  plays  and  operas — They  were  often  consulted  both  by  ileyerbeer 
and  Dumas — Dumas  at  work — How  he  idled  his  time  away — Dumas  causes 
the  tratfic  receipts  of  the  Chemin  de  Fer  de  I'Ouest  to  swell  during  his 
three  years'  residence  at  Saint-Germain^M.  de  Montalivet  advises  Louis- 
Pliilippe  to  invite  Dumas  to  Versailles,  to  see  what  his  presence  will  do 
for  tlie  royal  city — Louis-Philippe  does  not  act  upon  the  advice — The  re- 
lations between  Dumas  and  the  d'Orleans  family — -After  the  Revolution  of 
'■iS,  Dumas  becomes  a  candidate  for  parliament — The  story  of  his  canvass 
and  his  address  to  the  electors  at  Joigny — Dumas'  utter  indifference  to 
monev  mattera— He  casts  his  burdens  upon  others — Dumas  and  his  credit- 
ors— Writs  and  distraints — How  they  are  dealt  with — Dumas'  indiscrimi- 
nate generosity — A  dozen  houses  full  of  new  furniture  in  half  as  many 
years — Dumas'  frugality  at  table — Literary  remuneration— Dumas  and  his 
son — "  Leave  me  a  hundred  francs." 

Among  my  most  pleasant  recollections  of  those  days  are 
those  of  Alexandre  Dumas.  To  quote  his  own  words, "  when- 
ever he  met  an  Englishman  he  considered  it  his  particular 
duty  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  him,  as  part  of  the  debt 
he  owed  to  Shakespeare  and  Walter  Scott."  I  doubt  whether 
Dumas  ever  made  himself  deliberately  disagreeable  to  any 
one ;  even  when  provoked,  he  managed  to  disarm  his  adver- 
sary with  an  epigram,  rather  than  wound  him.  One  evening, 
a  professor  at  one  of  the  provincial  universities  had  been  din- 
ing at  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  as  the  guest  of  Eoger  de  Beauvoir. 

(-13) 


44  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

He  had  a  magnificent  cameo  breast-pin.  It  elicited  the  ad- 
miration of  every  one,  and  notably  that  of  Dumas.  He  said 
at  once  that  it  was  a  portrait  of  Julius  Csesar. 

"  Are  you  an  archseologist  ?  "  asked  the  professor. 

"  I,"  replied  Dumas,  "  I  am  absolutely  nothing." 

"  Still,"  insisted  the  visitor,  "  you  perceived  at  once  that 
it  was  a  portrait  of  Julius  Caesar." 

"  That  is  not  very  wonderful.  Csesar  is  essentially  a  Ro- 
man type ;  and,  besides,  I  know  Caesar  as  well  as  most  people, 
and  perhaps  better." 

To  tell  a  professor  of  history — especially  a  provincial  one 
— that  one  knows  Caesar  as  well  as  most  people  and  perhaps 
better,  is  naturally  to  provoke  the  question,  "In  what  ca- 
pacity ?  "  As  a  matter  of  course  the  question  followed  imme- 
diately. 

"  In  the  capacity  of  Caesar's  historian,"  said  Dumas  im- 
perturbably. 

We  were  getting  interested,  because  we  foresaw  that  the 
professor  would,  in  a  few  minutes,  get  the  worst  of  it.  Du- 
mas' eyes  were  twinkling  with  mischief. 

"You  have  written  a  history  of  Caesar?"  asked  the 
learned  man. 

"  Yes ;  why  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  won't  mind  my  being  frank  with  you  :  it  is 
because  it  has  never  been  mentioned  in  the  world  of  savans." 

"  The  world  of  savans  never  mentions  me." 

"  Still,  a  history  of  Caesar  ought  to  make  somewhat  of  a 
sensation." 

"  Mine  has  not  made  any.  People  read  it,  and  that  was 
all.  It  is  the  books  which  it  is  impossible  to  read  that  make 
a  sensation  :  they  are  like  the  dinners  one  cannot  digest ;  the 
dinners  one  digests  are  not  as  much  as  thought  of  next  morn- 
ing." That  was  Dumas'  way  of  putting  a  would-be  imperti- 
nent opponent  liors  de  combat^  and  his  repartees  were  fre- 
quently drawn  from  the  pursuit  he  loved  as  well,  if  not  better 
than  literature,  namely,  cooking.  It  may  sound  exaggerated, 
but  I  verily  believe  that  Dumas  took  a  greater  pride  in  con- 
cocting a  stew  than  in  constructing  a  novel  or  a  play.  Very 
often,  in  the  middle  of  the  dinner,  he  would  put  down  his 
knife  and  fork.  "  ^a,  c'est  rudement  bon :  il  faut  que  je 
m'en  procure  la  recette."  And  Guepet  was  sent  for  to  au- 
thorize Dumas  to  descend  to  the  lower  regions  and  have  a 
consultation  with  his  chefs.     He  was  the  only  one  of  the 


DR.   VERON.  45 

habitues  who  had  ever  been  in  the  kitchens  of  the  Cafe  de 
Paris.  As  a  rule  these  excursions  were  followed  by  an  invi- 
tation to  dine  at  Dumas'  two  or  three  days  hence,  when  the 
knowledge  freshly  acquired  would  be  put  into  practice. 

There  were  few  of  us  who  questioned  Dumas'  literary 
genius ;  there  were  many  who  suspected  his  culinary  abili- 
ties, and  notably  among  them.  Dr.  Veron.  The  germs  of 
this  unbelief  had  been  sown  in  the  doctor's  mind  by  his  own 
cordon-bleu,  Sophie.  The  erstwhile  director  of  the  opera 
lived,  at  that  time,  in  a  beautiful  apartment  on  the  first  floor 
of  a  nice  house  in  the  Rue  Taitbout,  at  the  corner  of  which 
the  Cafe  de  Paris  was  situated.  Sophie  had  virtually  a  sine- 
cure of  it,  because,  with  the  exception  of  a  dinner-party  now 
and  then,  her  master,  who  was  a  bachelor,  took  his  dinners 
at  the  restaurant.  And  with  regard  to  the  dejeuner,  there 
was  not  much  chance  of  her  displaying  her  talents,  because 
the  man,  who  was  reputed  to  be  a  very  Apicius,  was  frugality 
itself.  His  reasons  for  dining  out  instead  of  at  home  were 
perfectly  logical,  though  they  sounded  paradoxical.  One 
day,  Avhen  I  was  remarking  upon  the  seemingly  strange  habit 
of  dining  out,  when  he  was  paying  "  a  perfect  treasure  "  at 
home,  he  gave  me  these  reasons.  "  My  dear  friend,  depend 
upon  it  that  it  is  man's  stomach  which  found  the  aphorism, 
'  Qui  va  piano  va  sano,  qui  va  sano  va  lontano.''  In  your  own 
home  the  soup  is  on  the  table  at  a  certain  hour,  the  roast  is 
taken  off  the  jack,  the  dessert  is  spread  out  on  the  sideboard. 
Your  servants,  in  order  to  get  more  time  over  their  meals, 
hurry  you  up ;  they  do  not  serve  you,  they  gorge  you.  At 
the  restaurant,  on  the  contrary,  they  are  never  in  a  hurry, 
they  let  you  wait.  And,  besides,  I  always  tell  the  waiters  not 
to  mind  me ;  that  I  like  being  kept  a  long  while— that  is  one 
of  the  reasons  why  I  come  here. 

"  Another  thing,  at  the  restaurant  the  door  is  opened  at 
every  moment  and  something  happens.  A  friend,  a  chum, 
or  a  mere  acquaintance  comes  in  ;  one  chats  and  laughs  :  all 
this  aids  digestion,  A  man  ought  not  to  be  like  a  boa-con- 
strictor, he  ought  not  to  make  digestion  a  business  apart. 
He  ought  to  dine  and  to  digest  at  the  same  time,  and  nothing 
aids  this  dual  function  like  good  conversation.  Perhaps  the 
servant  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  when  the  latter  was  still 
Madame  Scarron,  was  a  greater  philosopher  than  we  suspect 
when  he  whispered  to  his  mistress,  '  Madame,  the  roast  has 
run  short ;  give  them  another  story.' 


46  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"  I  knew  a  philanthropist,"  wound  up  Dr.  Veron,  "  who 
objected  as  much  to  be  hurried  over  his  emotions  as  I  object 
to  be  hurried  over  ray  meals.  For  that  reason  he  never  went 
to  the  theatre.  When  he  wanted  an  emotional  fillip,  he  wan- 
dered about  the  streets  until  he  met  some  poor  wretch  evi- 
dently hungry  and  out  of  elbows.  He  took  him  to  the  near- 
est wine-shop,  gave  him  something  to  eat  and  to  drink,  sat 
himself  opposite  to  his  guest,  and  told  him  to  recount  his 
misfortunes.  '  But  take  your  time  over  it.  I  am  not  in  a 
hurry,'  he  recommended.  The  poor  outcast  began  his  tale ; 
my  friend  listened  attentively  until  he  was  thoroughly  moved. 
If  the  man's  story  was  very  sad,  he  gave  him  a  franc  or  two ; 
if  it  was  positively  heartrending  and  made  him  cry,  he  gave 
him  a  five-franc  piece ;  after  which,  he  came  to  see  me,  say- 
ing, '  I  have  thoroughly  enjoyed  myself,  and  made  the  inter- 
vals between  each  sensational  episode  last  as  long  as  I  liked, 
and,  what  is  more,  it  has  just  cost  me  seven  francs,  the  price 
of  a  stall  at  the  theatre.'  " 

To  return  to  Dr.  Veron's  scepticism  with  regard  to  Du- 
mas' culinary  accomplishments,  and  how  he  was  converted. 
Dumas,  it  appears,  had  got  the  recipe  for  stewing  carp  from 
a  German  lady,  and,  being  at  that  moment  on  very  friendly 
terms  with  Dr.  Veron,  which  was  not  always  the  case,  had 
invited  him  and  several  others  to  come  and  taste  the  results 
of  his  experiments.  The  dish  was  simply  splendid,  and  for 
days  and  days  Veron,  who  was  really  a  frugal  eater,  could 
talk  of  nothing  else  to  his  cook. 

"  Where  did  you  taste  it  ? "  said  Sophie,  getting  some- 
what jealous  of  this  praise  of  others  ;  "  at  the  Caf  6  de  Paris '? " 

"  No,  at  Monsieur  Dumas',"  was  the  answer. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  go  to  Monsieur  Dumas'  cook,  and  get 
the  recipe." 

"  That's  of  no  use,"  objected  her  master.  "  Monsieur  Du- 
mas prepared  the  dish  himself." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  go  to  Monsieur  Dumas  himself  and  ask 
him  to  give  me  the  recipe." 

Sophie  was  as  good  as  her  word,  and  walked  herself  off  to 
the  Chaussee  d'Antin.  The  great  novelist  felt  flattered,  and 
gave  her  every  possible  information,  but  somehow  the  dish 
was  not  like  that  her  master  had  so  much  enjoyed  at  his 
friend's.  Then  Sophie  grew  morose,  and  began  to  throw  out 
hints  about  the  great  man's  borrowing  other  people's  feathers 
in  his  culinary  pursuits,  just  as  he  did  in  his  literary  ones. 


DUMAS  AS  A   COOK.  47 

For  Sophie  was  not  altogether  illiterate,  and  the  papers  at 
that  time  were  frequently  charging  Dumas  with  keeping  his 
collaborateurs  too  much  in  the  background  and  himself  too 
much  in  front.  Dumas  had  never  much  difficulty  in  meeting 
such  accusations,  but  Sophie  had  unconsciously  hit  upon  the 
tactics  of  the  clever  solicitor  who  recommended  the  barrister 
to  abuse  the  plaintiff,  the  defendant's  case  being  bad,  and  she 
put  it  into  practice.  "  C'est  avec  sa  carpe  comme  avec  ses 
romans,  les  autres  les  font  et  il  y  met  son  nom,"  she  said 
one  day.  "  Je  I'ai  bien  vu,  c'est  un  grand  diable  de  vani- 
teux." 

Now,  there  was  no  doubt  about  it,  to  those  who  did  not 
know  him  very  well,  Dumas  was  "  un  grand  diable  de  vani- 
teux ; "  and  the  worthy  doctor  sat  pondering  his  cook's  re- 
marks until  he  himself  felt  inclined  to  think  that  Dumas  had 
a  clever  chef  in  the  background,  upon  whose  victories  he 
plumed  himself.  Meanwhile  Dumas  had  been  out  of  town 
for  more  than  a  month,  but  a  day  or  so  after  his  return  he 
made  his  appearance  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  inquired  after  the  result  of  Sophie's  efforts.  The  doc- 
tor was  reticent  at  first,  not  caring  to  acknowledge  Sophie's 
failure.  He  had,  however,  made  the  matter  public,  alleging, 
at  the  same  time,  Sophie's  suspicions  as  to  Dumas'  hidden 
collaborateur,  and  one  of  the  company  was  ill  advised  enough 
to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.  During  the  many  years  of  my 
acquaintance  with  Dumas,  I  have  never  seen  him  in  such  a 
rage  as  then.  But  he  toned  down  in  a  very  few  minutes.  "  II 
n'y  a  qu'une  reponse  a  une  accusation  pareille,"  he  said  in  a 
grandiloquent  tone,  which,  however,  had  the  most  comical 
effect,  seeing  how  trifling  the  matter  was  in  reality — "  il  n'y 
qu'une  reponse ;  vous  viendrez  diner  avec  moi  demain,  vous 
choissirez  un  delegue  qui  viendra  a  partir  de  troi  heures  me 
voir  preparer  mon  diner."  I  was  the  youngest,  the  choice 
fell  upon  me.  That  is  how  my  life-long  friendship  with  Du- 
mas began.  At  three  o'clock  next  day  I  was  at  the  Chaussee 
d'Antin,  and  was  taken  by  the  servant  into  the  kitchen,  where 
the  great  novelist  stood  surrounded  by  his  utensils,  some  of 
silver,  and  all  of  them  glistening  like  silver.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  a  soupe  aux  choux,  at  which,  by  his  own  confes- 
sion, he  had  been  at  work  since  the  morning,  all  the  ingredi- 
ents for  the  dinner  were  in  their  natural  state — of  course, 
washed  and  peeled,  but  nothing  more.  He  was  assisted  by 
his  own  cook  and  a  kitchen-maid,  but  he  himself,  with  his 


48  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbows,  a  large  apron  round  his  waist, 
and  bare  chest,  conducted  the  operations.  I  do  not  think  I 
have  ever  seen  anything  more  entertaining,  though  in  the 
course  of  these  notes  I  shall  have  to  mention  frequent  vaga- 
ries on  the  part  of  great  men.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
when  writers  insisted  upon  the  culinary  challenges  of  Ca- 
reme,  Duglere,  and  Casimir  they  were  not  indulging  in  mere 
metaphor. 

At  half-past  six  the  guests  began  to  arrive ;  at  a  quarter 
to  seven  Dumas  retired  to  his  dressing-room ;  at  seven  punct- 
ually the  servant  announced  that  "monsieur  etait  servi." 
The  dinner  consisted  of  the  aforenamed  soupe  aux  choux, 
the  carp  that  had  led  to  the  invitation,  a  ragout  de  mouton 
a  la  Hongroise,  roti  de  faisans,  and  a  salade  Japonaise.  The 
sweets  and  ices  had  been  sent  by  the  patissier.  I  never  dined 
like  that  before  or  after,  not  even  a  week  later,  when  Dr. 
Veron  and  Sophie  made  the  amende  honorable  in  the  Eue 
Taitbout. 

I  have  spent  many  delightful  evenings  with  all  these 
men ;  I  do  not  remember  having  spent  a  more  delightful  one 
than  on  the  latter  occasion.  Every  one  was  in  the  best  of 
humours ;  the  dinner  was  very  fine ;  albeit  that,  course  for 
course,  it  did  not  come  up  to  Dumas' ;  and,  moreover,  dur- 
ing the  week  that  had  elapsed  between  the  two  entertain- 
ments, one  of  Dr.  Veron's  successors  at  the  opera,  Leon 
Pillet,  had  been  served  with  the  most  ludicrous  citation  that 
was  ever  entered  on  the  rolls  of  any  tribunal.  For  nearly 
nineteen  years  before  that  period  there  had  been  several  at- 
tempts to  mount  "Weber's  "  Freyschutz,"  all  of  which  had 
come  to  nought.  There  had  been  an  adaptation  by  Castil- 
Blaze,  under  the  title  of  "  Robin  des  Bois,"  and  several  others ; 
but  until  '41,  Weber's  work,  even  in  a  mutilated  state,  was 
not  known  to  the  French  opera-goer.  At  that  time,  however, 
M.  Emilien  Paccini  made  a  very  good  translation  ;  Hector 
Berlioz  was  commissioned  to  write  the  recitatives,  for  it  must 
be  remembered  that  Weber's  opera  contains  dialogue,  and 
that  dialogue  is  not  admissible  in  grand  opera.  Berlioz 
acquitted  himself  Avith  a  taste  and  reverence  for  the  com- 
poser's original  scheme  that  did  great  credit  to  both ;  he 
sought  his  themes  in  Weber's  work  itself,  notably  in  the 
"  Invitation  a  la  Valse  : "  but  notwithstanding  all  this,  the 
"  Freyschutz  "  was  miserably  amputated  in  the  performance 
lest  it  should  "  play  "  longer  than  midnight,  though  a  ballet 


A  MUSICAL  LAW-SUIT.  49 

was  added  rather  than  deprive  the  public  of  its  so-called  due. 
Neither  Paccini  nor  Berlioz  had  set  foot  in  the  opera-house 
since  their  objections  to  such  a  course  had  been  overruled, 
and  they  made  it  known  to  the  world  at  large  that  no  blame 
attached  to  them  ;  nevertheless,  this  quasi  "  Freyschutz  "  met 
with  a  certain  amount  of  success.  M.  Pillet  was  rubbing  his 
hands  with  glee  at  his  own  cleverness,  until  a  Nemesis  came 
in  the  shape  of  a  visitor  from  the  Fatherland,  who  took  the 
conceit  out  of  the  director  with  one  fell  blow,  and,  what  was 
worse  still,  with  a  perfectly  legal  one. 

The  visitor  w^as  no  less  a  personage  than  Count  Tyszkie- 
wicz,  one  of  the  best  musical  critics  of  the  time  and  the  edi- 
tor of  the  foremost  musical  publication  in  the  world  ;  namely, 
Die  Musikalisclie  Zeitimg,  of  Leipzig.  The  count,  having 
been  attracted  by  the  announcement  of  the  opera  on  the  bills, 
was  naturally  anxious  to  hear  how  French  artists  would  acquit 
themselves  of  a  work  particularly  German,  and,  having  se- 
cured a  stall,  anticipated  an  enjoyable  evening.  But  alack 
and  alas !  in  a  very  little  while  his  indignation  at  the  liber- 
ties taken  with  the  text  and  the  score  by  the  singers,  musi- 
cians, and  conductor  got  the  upper  hand,  and  he  rushed  off 
to  the  commissary  of  police  on  duty  at  the  theatre  to  claim 
the  execution  of  Weber's  opera  in  its  integrity,  as  promised 
on  the  bills,  or  the  restitution  of  his  money.  Failing  to  get 
satisfaction  either  way,  he  required  the  commissary  to  draw 
up  a  verbatim  report  of  his  objections  and  his  claim,  deter- 
mined to  bring  an  action.  Next  morning,  he  sent  a  litho- 
graphed account  of  the  transaction  to  all  the  papers,  re- 
questing its  insertion,  with  which  request  not  a  single  one 
complied.  Finding  himself  baffled  at  every  turn,  he  engaged 
lawyer  and  counsel  and  began  proceedings. 

It  was  at  that  stage  of  the  affair  that  the  dinner  at  Dr. 
Veron's  took  place.  As  a  matter  of  course,  the  coming  law- 
suit gave  rise  to  a  great  deal  of  chaff  on  the  part  of  the 
guests,  although  the  victim  of  this  badinage  and  defendant 
in  the  suit  was  not  there.  It  was  his  successor  who  took  up 
the  cudgels  and  predicted  the  plaintiff's  discomfiture.  "  The 
counsel,"  said  Koqueplan,  "  ought  to  be  instructed  to  invite 
the  president  and  assessors  to  come  and  hear  the  work  before 
they  deliver  judgment :  if  they  like  it  personally,  they  will 
not  decide  against  Pillet ;  if  they  don't,  they'll  fall  asleep  and 
be  ashamed  to  own  it  afterwards.  But  should  they  give  a 
verdict  for  the  plaintiff,  Pillet  ought  to  appeal  on  a  question 

3 


50  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

of  incompetence ;  a  person  with  the  name  of  Tyszkiewicz  has 
no  right  to  plead  in  the  interest  of  harmony."  * 

Among  such  a  company  as  that  gathered  round  Dr. 
Veron's  table,  a  single  sentence  frequently  led  to  a  host  of 
recollections.  Scarcely  had  Roqueplan's  suggestion  to  invite 
the  president  and  assessors  of  the  court  to  the  performance 
of  the  "  Freyschutz  "  been  broached  than  our  host  chimed 
in :  "I  can  tell  you  a  story  where  the  expedient  you  recom- 
mend was  really  resorted  to,  though  it  did  not  emanate  from 
half  as  clever  a  man  as  you,  Roqueplan.  In  fact,  it  was  only 
a  pompier  that  hit  upon  it  to  get  out  of  a  terrible  scrape. 
He  was  going  to  be  brought  before  a  court-martial  for  neglect 
of  duty.  It  happened  under  the  management  of  my  imme- 
diate successor,  Duponchel,  at  the  fourth  or  fifth  perform- 
ance of  Halevy's  '  Guido  et  Genevra.'  Some  of  the  scenery 
caught  fire,  and,  but  for  Duponchel's  presence  of  mind,  there 
would  have  been  a  panic  and  a  horrible  catastrophe.  Never- 
theless, the  cause  of  the  accident  had  to  he  ascertained,  and 
it  was  found  that  the  brigadier  fireman  posted  at  the  spot 
where  the  mischief  began  had  been  asleep.  He  frankly  ad- 
mitted his  fault,  at  the  same  time  pleading  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances. '  What  do  you  mean  ? '  asked  the  captain, 
charged  with  the  report.  '  Such  a  thing  has  never  happened 
to  me  before,  mon  capitaine,  but  it  is  impossible  for  any  one 
to  keep  his  eyes  open  during  that  act.  You  need  not  take 
my  word,  but  perhaps  you  will  try  the  effect  yourself.'  The 
captain  did  try;  the  captain  sat  for  two  or  three  minutes 
after  the  rise  of  the  curtain,  then  he  was  seen  to  leave  his 
place  hurriedly.  The  brigadier  and  his  men  were  severely 
reprimanded,  but  they  were  not  tried.  Out  of  respect  for 
Halevy  the  matter  was  kept  a  secret. 

"  I  may  add,"  said  our  host,  "  that  the  pompier  is  by  no 
means  a  bad  judge  of  things  theatrical,  seeing  that  he  is  rarely 
away  from  the  stage  for  more  than  three  or  four  nights  at  a 
time.  I  remember  perfectly  well  that,  during  the  rehearsals 
of  '  Robert  le  Diable,'  Meyerbeer  often  had  a  chat  with  them. 
Curiously  enough  he  now  and  then  made  little  alterations 

*  The  latter  plea  was,  in  fact,  advanced  by  Fillet's  counsel  In  the  first  in- 
stance, on  Koqueplan's  advice,  and  perhaps  infiuenced  the  court ;  for  though  it 
gave  a  verdict  for  the  plamtitF,  it  was  only  for  seven  francs  (the  price  of  the 
stall),  and  costs.  The  verdict  was  based  upon  the  "  consideration "  that  the 
defendant  had  not  carried  out  altogether  tne  promise  set  forth  on  the  pro- 
gramme. 


DUxMAS  AT  REST.  51 

after  these  conversations.  I  am  not  insinuating  that  the 
great  composer  acted  upon  their  suggestions,  but  I  should 
not  at  all  wonder  if  he  had  done  so." 

Alexandre  Dumas,  in  whose  honour,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, the  dinner  was  given,  had  an  excellent  memory,  and 
some  years  afterwards  profited  by  the  experiment.  I  tell  the 
story  as  it  was  given  to  us  subsequently  by  his  son.  Only  a 
few  friends  and  Alexandre  the  younger  were  present  at  the 
first  of  the  final  rehearsals  of  "  The  Three  Musketeers,"  at 
the  Ambigu  Comique.  They  were  not  dress  rehearsals  proper, 
because  there  were  no  costumes,  and  the  scenery  merely  con- 
sisted of  a  cloth  and  some  wings.  Behind  one  of  the  latter 
they  had  noticed,  during  the  first  six  tableaux,  the  shining 
helmet  of  a  fireman  who  was  listening  very  attentively.  The 
author  had  noticed  him  too.  About  the  middle  of  the  seventh 
tableau  the  helmet  suddenly  vanished,  and  the  father  remarked 
upon  it  to  his  son.  When  the  act  was  finished,  Dumas  went 
in  search  of  the  pompier,  who  did  not  know  him.  "  What 
made  you  go  away?"  he  asked  him.  "Because  it  did  not 
amuse  me  half  as  much  as  the  others,"  was  the  answer. 
"  That  was  enough  for  my  father,"  said  the  younger  Dumas. 
"  There  and  then  he  went  to  Beraud's  room,  took  off  his  coat, 
waistcoat,  and  braces,  unfastened  the  collar  of  his  shirt — it 
was  the  only  way  he  could  work — and  sent  for  the  prompt 
copy  of  the  seventh  tableau,  which  he  tore  up  and  flung  into 
the  fire,  to  the  consternation  of  Beraud.  '  What  are  you  do- 
ing?' he  exclaimed.  'You  see  what  I  am  doing;  I  am  de- 
stroying the  seventh  tableau.  It  does  not  amuse  the  pom- 
pier. I  know  what  it  wants.'  And  an  hour  and  a  half  later, 
at  the  termination  of  the  rehearsal,  the  actors  were  given  a 
fresh  seventh  tableau  to  study." 

I  have  come  back  by  a  roundabout  way  to  the  author  of 
"  Monte-Christo,"  because,  tout  chemin  avec  moi  mene  d 
Dumas ;  I  repeat,  he  constitutes  one  of  the  happiest  of  my 
recollections.  After  the  lapse  of  many  years,  I  willingly  ad- 
mit that  I  would  have  cheerfully  foregone  the  acquaintance 
of  all  the  other  celebrities,  perhaps  David  d'Angers  excepted, 
for  that  of  Dumas  pere. 

After  the  lapse  of  many  years,  the  elder  Dumas  still  repre- 
sents to  me  all  the  good  qualities  of  the  French  nation  and 
few  of  their  bad  ones.  It  was  absolutely  impossible  to  be 
dull  in  his  society,  but  it  must  not  be  thought  that  these  con- 
tagious animal  spirits  only  showed  themselves  periodically  or 


52  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

when  in  company.  It  was  what  the  French  have  so  aptly 
termed  "  la  joie  de  vivre,"  albeit  that  they  rarely  associate 
the  phrase  with  any  one  not  in  the  spring  of  life.  With 
Dumas  it  was  chronic  until  a  very  few  months  before  his 
death.  I  remember  calling  upon  him  shortly  after  the  din- 
ner of  which  1  spoke  just  ^now.  He  had  taken  up  his  quar- 
ters at  Saint-Germain,  and  come  to  Paris  only  for  a  few  days. 
"  Is  monsieur  at  home  ?  "  I  said  to  the  servant. 

"  He  is  in  his  study,  monsieur,"  was  the  answer.  "  Mon- 
sieur can  go  in." 

At  that  moment  I  heard  a  loud  burst  of  laughter  from 
the  inner  apartment,  so  I  said,  "  I  would  sooner  wait  until 
monsieur's  visitors  are  gone." 

"  Monsieur  has  no  visitors;  he  is  working,"  remarked  the 
servant  with  a  smile.  "Monsieur  Dumas  of  ten  laughs  like 
this  at  his  work." 

It  was  true  enough,  the  novelist  was  alone,  or  rather  in 
company  with  one  of  his  characters,  at  whose  sallies  he  was 
simply  roaring. 

Work,  in  fact,  was  a  pleasure  to  him,  like  everything  else 
he  undertook.  One  day  he  had  been  out  shooting,  between 
Villers-Cotterets  and  Compiegne,  since  six  in  the  morning, 
and  had  killed  twenty-nine  birds.  "  I  am  going  to  make  up 
the  score  and  a  half,  and  then  I'll  have  a  sleep,  for  I  feel 
tired,"  he  said.  When  he  had  killed  his  thirtieth  partridge 
he  slowly  walked  back  to  the  farm,  where  his  son  and  friends 
found  him  about  four  hours  later,  toasting  himself  before  the 
fire,  his  feet  on  the  andirons,  and  twirling  his  thumbs. 

"What  are  you  sitting  there  for  like  that?"  asked  his 
son. 

"  Can't  you  see?    I  am  resting." 

"  Did  you  get  your  sleep  ?  '' 

"  No,  I  didn't ;  it's  impossible  to  sleep  here.  There  is  an 
infernal  noise  ;  what  with  the  sheep,  the  cows,  the  pigs,  and 
the  rest,  there  is  no  chance  of  getting  a  wink." 

"  So  you  have  been  sitting  here  for  the  last  four  hours, 
twirling  your  thumbs  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  been  writing  a  piece  in  one  act."  The  piece 
in  question  was  "Romulus,^'  which  he  gave  to  Regnier  to 
have  it  read  at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  under  a  pseudonym, 
and  as  the  work  of  a  young  unknown  author.  It  was  accept- 
ed without  a  dissentient  vote. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact,  vouched  for  by  the  accounts  of 


DUMAS  AS  A  CENTRE  OP  ATTRACTION.  53 

the  Compagnie  du  Chemin  de  Fer  de  I'Ouest,  that  during 
the  three  years  Dumas  lived  at  Saint-Gerraain,  the  receipts 
increased  by  twenty  thousand  francs  per  annum.  Of  course, 
it  has  been  objected  that  railways  being  then  in  their  infancy 
the  increment  would  have  been  just  the  same  without  Dumas' 
presence  in  the  royal  residence,  but,  curiously  enough,  from 
the  day  he  left,  the  passenger  traffic  fell  to  its  previous  state. 
Dumas  had  simply  galvanized  the  sleepy  old  town  into  life, 
he  had  bought  the  theatre  where  the  artists  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran(>aise,  previous  to  supping  with  him,  came  to  play 
"  Mademoiselle  de  Belle-Isle  "  or  the  "  Demoiselles  de  Saint- 
Cyr,"  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor.  On  such  occasions,  there 
was  not  a  room  to  be  had  at  the  hotels.  After  supper,  there 
were  twice  a  week  fireworks  on  the  Terrace,  which  could  be 
seen  from  Paris  and  from  Versailles,  to  the  great  astonish- 
ment of  Louis- Philippe,  who  really  attributed  the  change  to 
the  beneficence  of  his  reign,  although  he  failed  to  account 
for  the  continued  dulness  of  the  latter  royal  borough,  where 
he  himself  resided,  and  whose  picture-galleries  he  had  restored 
and  tlirown  open  to  the  public,  besides  having  the  great  fount- 
ains to  play  every  first  Sunday  of  the  month. 

One  day  the  king  sent  for  M.  de  Montalivet,  and  told 
him  that,  though  gratified  at  the  revived  prosperity  of 
Saint-Germain,  he  would  like  to  see  a  little  more  gaiety  at 
Versailles. 

"  You  really  mean  it,  sire?"  asked  the  minister. 

"  Not  only  do  I  mean  it,  but  I  confess  to  yon  that  it 
would  give  me  great  pleasure." 

"  Well,  sire,  Alexandre  Dumas  has  lately  been  sentenced 
to  a  fortnight's  imprisonment  for  neglecting  his  duty  in  the 
National  Guards :  make  an  order  for  him  to  spend  that  fort- 
night in  Versailles,  and  I  guarantee  your  Majesty  that  Ver- 
sailles will  be  lively  enough." 

Louis-Philippe  did  not  act  upon  the  suggestion.  The 
only  member  of  the  d'Orleans'  family  who  was  truly  sympa- 
thetic to  Dumas  was  the  king's  eldest  son,  whose  untimely 
death  shortly  afterwards  affected  the  great  novelist  very 
much,  albeit  that  he  frankly  acknowledged  to  regretting  the 
man  and  not  the  future  ruler ;  for  while  loudly  professing 
his  republican  creed,  he  never  pretended  to  overlook  his  in- 
debtedness to  Louis- Philippe,  when  Due  d'Orleans,  for  hav- 
ing befriended  him  ;  nay,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Dumas' 
gratitude  was  far  greater  than  the  case  warranted.    When,  in 


54  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

1847,  the  fancy  took  him  to  go  into  parliament,  he  naturally 
turned  to  the  borough  he  had  benefited  so  much  by  his  stay 
there  —  Saint-Germain,  and  Saint-Germain  denied  him. 
They  thought  him  too  immoral.  Dumas  waited  patiently 
for  another  opportunity,  which  did  not  come  until  the 
following  year,  when  Louis-Philippe  had  abdicated.  Ad- 
dressing a  meeting  of  electors  at  Joigny,  he  was  chal- 
lenged by  a  M.  de  Bonneliere  to  reconcile  his  title  of  re- 
publican with  his  title  of  Marquis  de  la  Pailleterie,  and  the 
fact  of  his  having  been  a  secretary  to  the  Due  d'Orleans, 
although  he  had  never  occupied  so  important  a  position  in 
the  Due  d'Orleans'  household.  His  reply  was  simply  scath- 
ing, and  I  give  it  in  full  as  the  papers  of  the  day  reproduced 
it.  "  No  doubt,"  he  said,  in  an  off-hand,  bantering  way,  "  I 
was  formerly  called  the  Marquis  de  la  Pailleterie,  which  was 
my  father's  name,  and  of  which  I  was  very  proud,  being 
unable  then  to  claim  a  glorious  one  of  my  own  make.  But 
at  present,  when  I  am  somebody,  I  call  myself  Alexandre 
Dumas  and  nothing  more;  and  everybody  knows  me,  you 
among  the  rest — you,  you  absolute  nobody,  who  have  merely 
come  to  be  able  to  boast  to-morrow,  after  insulting  me  to- 
night, that  you  have  known  the  great  Dumas.  If  such  was 
your  ambition,  you  might  have  satisfied  it  without  failing  in 
the  common  courtesies  of  a  gentleman." 

When  the  applause  which  the  reply  provoked  had  sub- 
sided, Dumas  went  on  :  "  There  is  also  no  doubt  about  my 
having  been  a  secretary  to  the  Due  d'Orleans,  and  that  I 
have  received  all  kinds  of  favours  from  his  family.  If  you, 
citizen,  are  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the  term,  '  the  mem- 
ory of  the  heart,'  allow  me  at  least  to  proclaim  here  in  my 
loudest  voice,  that  I  am  not,  and  that  I  entertain  towards 
this  royal  family  all  the  devotion  an  honourable  man  can 
feel." 

It  is,  however,  not  my  intention  to  sketch  Alexandre 
Dumas  as  a  politician,  for  which  career  I  considered  him 
singularly  unfit ;  but  the  speech  from  which  I  extracted  the 
foregoing  contains  a  few  lines  which,  more  than  thirty-five 
years  after  they  were  spoken,  cannot  fail  to  strike  the  reader 
with  his  marvellous  foresight.  "  Geographically,"  he  said, 
commenting  upon  the  political  state  of  Europe,  "  Prussia 
has  the  form  of  a  serpent,  and,  like  it,  she  seems  to  be  asleep, 
and  to  gather  her  strength  in  order  to  swallow  everything 
around  her — Denmark,  Holland,  Belgium,  and,  when  she 


DUMAS  AS  A   POLITICIAN.  55 

shall  have  swallowed  all  that,  you  will  find  that  Austria 
will  be  swallowed  iu  its  turn,  and  perhaps,  alas,  France 
also." 

The  last  words,  as  may  be  imagined,  provoked  a  storm  of 
hisses ;  nevertheless,  he  kept  his  audience  spellbound  until 
midnight. 

A  parliamentary  candidate,  however  eloquent,  who  flings 
his  constituents  into  the  river  when  they  happen  to  annoy 
him,  must  have  been  a  novelty  even  in  those  days,  and  that 
is  what  Dumas  did  to  two  brawlers  after  said  meeting,  just 
to  show  them  that  his  "  aristocratic  grip  "  was  worth  their 
"  plebeian  one." 

A  few  years  later,  at  a  dinner  at  Dumas',  in  the  Rue 
d' Amsterdam,  I  met  a  Monsieur  du  Chaffault  who  had  been 
an  eye-witness  of  this,  as  well  as  of  other  scenes  during  that 
memorable  day.  Until  the  morning  of  that  day,  M.  du 
Chaffault  had  never  set  eyes  on  the  great  novelist;  in  the 
evening,  he  was  his  friend  for  life.  It  only  proves  once  more 
the  irresistible  fascination  Dumas  exercised  over  every  one 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  because  the  beginning  of  that 
friendship  cost  M.  du  Chaffault  six  hundred  francs,  the  ex- 
penses of  that  part  of  the  electoral  campaign.  The  story,  as 
told  by  M.  du  Chaffault  tlie  following  afternoon  in  the  Cafe 
Riche  to  Dr.  Veron,  myself,  and  Joseph  Mery,  is  too  good  to 
be  missed.     I  give  it  as  near  as  I  can  remember. 

"  I  was  about  twenty- four  then,  with  nothing  particular  to 
do,  and  a  moderate  private  income.  They  were  painting  and 
whitewashing  my  place,  a  few  miles  away  from  Sens,  and  I 
had  taken  up  my  quarters  in  the  principal  hotel  in  the  town. 
The  first  elections  under  the  second  republic  were  being 
held.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  excitement  everywhere,  and 
I  liked  it,  though  not  taking  the  slightest  interest  in  politics. 
This  was  in  May,  1848 ;  and  about  six,  one  morning  while  I 
was  still  in  bed,  the  door  of  my  room  was  suddenly  opened 
without  knocking,  and  what  seemed  to  me  a  big  black 
monster  stood  before  me.  There  was  a  pistol  lying  by  the 
side  of  me,  and  I  was  reaching  towards  it,  when  he  spoke. 
'  Don't  alarm  yourself,'  he  said ;  '  I  am  Alexandre  Dumas 
They  told  me  you  were  a  good  fellow,  and  I  have  come  to 
ask  you  a  service.' 

"  I  had  never  seen  Dumas  in  the  flesh,  only  a  portrait  of 
him,  but  I  recognized  him  immediately.  '  You  have  often 
afforded  me  a  great  deal  of  amusement,  but  I  confess  you 


56  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

frightened  me,'  I  said.  *  What,  in  Heaven's  name,  do  you 
want  at  this  unholy  hour  ?  ' 

" '  I  have  slept  here,'  was  the  answer.  '  I  landed  here  at 
midnight,  and  am  starting  for  Joigny  by-and-by,  to  attend  a 
political  meeting.  I  am  putting  up  as  a  member  for  your 
department.' 

I  jumped  out  of  bed  at  once,  Dumas  handed  me  my 
trousers,  and,  when  I  got  as  far  as  my  boots,  he  says,  '  Oh, 
while  I  think  of  it,  I  have  come  to  ask  you  for  a  pair  of 
boots ;  in  stepping  into  the  carriage,  one  of  mine  has  come 
to  utter  grief,  and  there  is  no  shop  open.' 

"  As  yoa  may  see  for  yourselves,  I  am  by  no  means  a 
giant,  and  Dumas  is  one.  I  pointed  this  out  to  him,  but  he 
did  not  even  answer  me.  He  had  caught  sight  of  three  or 
four  pair  of  boots  under  the  dressing-table,  and,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  chose  the  best  pair  and  pulled  them  on, 
leaving  me  his  old  ones,  absolutely  worn  out,  but  which  I 
have  preserved  in  my  library  at  home.  I  always  show  them 
to  my  visitors  as  the  thousand  and  first  volume  of  Alexandre 
Dumas.* 

"  By  the  time  he  got  the  boots  on  we  were  friends,  as  if 
we  had  known  one  another  for  years  ;  as  for  Dumas,  he  was 
'  theeing '  and  '  thouing '  me  as  if  we  had  been  at  school  to- 
gether. 

" '  You  are  going  to  Joigny  ? '  I  said  ;  '  I  know  a  good 
many  people  there.' 

"  '  All  the  better,  for  I  am  going  to  take  you  along  with 
me.' 

"  Having  to  go  no  further  than  Joigny,  and  being  taken 
thither  in  the  conveyance  of  my  newly-made  friend,  I  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  provide  myself  with  an  extra  supply 
of  funds,  the  more  that  I  had  between  five  and  six  hundred 
francs  in  my  pocket.  In  a  short  time  we  were  on  our  road, 
and  the  first  stage  of  three  hours  seemed  to  me  as  many  min- 
utes. Whenever  we  passed  a  country  seat,  out  came  a  lot  of 
anecdotes  and  legends  connected  with  its  owners,  interlarded 
with  quaint  fancies  and  epigrams.  At  that  first  change  of 
horses  Dumas'  secretary  paid.  At  the  second,  Villevailles, 
Dumas  says,  '  Have  you  got  twenty  francs  change  ? '  With- 
out a  moment's  hesitation,  I  took  out  my  purse,  paid  the 
money,  and  put  down  in  my  pocket-book,  '  Alexandre  Dumas, 

*  Alexandre  Dumas  liad  a  marvellously  small  foot. — Editor. 


DUMAS'  IMPECUNIOSITY.  57 

twenty  francs.'  I  might  have  saved  myself  the  trouble,  as  I 
found  out  in  a  very  short  time,  for  the  moment  he  got  out  at 
Joigny,  he  rushed  off  in  a  hurry  without  troubling  about  any- 
thing. The  postilion  turned  to  me  for  his  money,  and  I  paid, 
and  put  down  once  more, '  Alexandre  Dumas,  thirty  francs.' 

"  The  first  meeting  was  fixed  for  four,  at  the  theatre. 
They  applied  to  me  for  the  hire  of  the  building,  for  the  gas. 
1  went  on  paying,  but  I  no  longer  put  down  the  items,  saying 
to  myself, '  When  my  six  hundred  francs  are  gone,  my  little 
excursion  will  be  at  an  end,  and  I'll  go  back  to  Sens.'  The 
little  excursion  did  not  extend  to  more  than  one  day,  seeing 
that  I  had  to  settle  the  dinner  bill  at  the  Due  de  Bourgogne, 
Dumas  having  invited  every  one  he  met  on  his  way.  1  am 
only  sorry  for  one  thing,  that  I  did  not  have  ten  thousand 
francs  in  my  pocket  that  morning  in  order  to  prolong  my 
excursion  for  a  week  or  so.  But  next  morning  my  purse  was 
empty,  and  '  our  defeat  v/as  certain.'  I  had  already  identified 
myself  with  Dumas'  aspirations,  so  I  returned  to  Sens  by 
myself,  but  overjoyed  at  having  seen  and  spoken  to  this  man 
of  genius,  who  is  richer  than  all  the  millionnaires  in  the 
world  put  together,  seeing  that  he  never  troubles  himself 
about  paying,  and  has  therefore  no  need  to  worry  about 
money.  Three  months  afterwards,  the  printer  at  Joigny 
drew  upon  me  for  a  hundred  francs  for  electioneering  bills, 
which,  of  course,  I  could  not  have  ordered,  but  which  draft  I 
settled  as  joyfully  as  I  had  settled  the  rest.  I  have  preserved 
the  draft  with  the  boots ;  they  are  mementoes  of  my  first  two 
days'  friendship  with  my  dear  friend." 

At  the  first  blush,  all  this  sonnds  very  much  as  if  we  were 
dealing  with  a  mere  Harold  Skimpole,  but  no  man  was  more 
unlike  Dickens'  creation  than  Alexandre  Dumas.  M.  du 
Chaffault  described  him  rightly  when  he  said  that  he  did 
not  worry  about  money,  not  even  his  own.  "My  biog- 
rapher," Dumas  often  said,  "  will  not  fail  to  point  out  that 
1  was  '  a  panier  perce,'  *  neglecting,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
to  mention  that,  as  a  rule,  it  was  not  I  who  made  the  holes." 

The  biographers  have  not  been  quite  so  unjust  as  that. 
Unfortunately,  few  of  them  knew  Dumas  intimately,  and 
they  were  so  intent  upon  sketching  the  playwright  and  the 
novelist  that  they  neglected  the  man.     They  could  have  had 


*  Literally,  a  basket  with  holes  in  it ;  figuratively,  the  term  applied  to  irre- 
claimable spendthrifts. — Editor. 


58  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  stories  of  Alexandre  Dumas'  improvidence  with  regard 
to  himself  and  his  generosity  to  others  for  the  asking  from 
his  familiars-  On  the  other  hand,  the  latter  have  only  told 
these  stories  in  a  fragmentary  way ;  a  complete  collection  of 
them  wonld  be  impossible,  for  no  one,  not  even  Dumas  him- 
self, knew  half  the  people  whom  he  befriended.  In  that 
very  apartment  of  the  Eue  d' Amsterdam  which  I  mentioned 
just  now,  the  board  was  free  to  any  and  every  one  who  chose 
to  come  in.  Not  once,  but  a  score  of  times,  have  I  heard 
Dumas  ask,  after  this  or  that  man  had  left  the  table,  "  Who 
is  he  ?  what's  his  name  ?  "  Whosoever  came  with,  or  at  the 
tail,  not  of  a  friend,  but  of  a  simple  acquaintance,  especially 
if  the  acquaintance  happened  to  wear  skirts,  was  immediately 
invited  to  breakfast  or  dinnei  as  the  case  might  be.  Count 
de  Cherville  once  told  me  that  Dumas,  having  taken  a  house 
at  Varenne-Saint-Hilaire,  his  second  month's  bill  for  meat 
alone  amounted  to  eleven  hundred  francs.  Let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  his  household  consisted  of  himself,  two  secre- 
taries, and  three  servants,  and  that  money  went  a  great  deal 
further  than  it  does  at  present,  especially  in  provincial  France, 
in  some  parts  of  which  living  is  still  very  cheap.  In  conse- 
quence of  one  of  those  financial  crises,  which  were  absolutely 
periodical  with  Alexandre  Dumas,  M.  de  Cherville  had  pre- 
vailed upon  him  to  leave  Paris  for  a  while,  and  to  take  up 
his  quarters  with  him.  All  went  comparatively  well  as  long 
as  he  was  M.  de  Cherville's  guest ;  but,  having  taken  a  liking 
to  the  neighbourhood,  he  rented  a  house  of  his  own,  and 
furnished  it  from  garret  to  cellar  in  the  most  expensive  way, 
as  if  he  were  going  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life  in  it. 
Exclusive  of  the  furniture,  he  spent  between  fifteen  thou- 
sand and  eighteen  thousand  francs  on  hangings,  painting, 
and  repairs.  The  parasites  and  harpies  which  M.  de  Cher- 
ville had  kept  at  bay  came  down  upon  him  like  a  swarm  of 
locusts.  "  And  how  long,  think  you,  did  Dumas  stay  in  his 
new  domicile  ?  Three  months,  not  a  day  more  nor  less.  As 
a  matter  of  course,  the  furniture  did  not  fetch  a  quarter  of 
its  cost ;  the  repairs,  the  decorating,  etc.,  were  so  much  sheer 
waste  :  for  the  incoming  tenant  refused  to  refund  a  cent  for 
it,  and  Dumas,  having  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Italy, 
would  not  wait  for  a  more  liberal  or  conscientious  one,  lest 
he  should  have  the  rent  of  the  empty  house  on  his  shoulders 
also.  Luckily,  I  took  care  that  he  should  pocket  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  sale  of  the  furniture." 


DUMAS  AND  THE  BAILIFFS.  59 

This  last  sentence  wants  explaining.  As  a  rule,  when  a 
man  sells  his  sticks,  he  pockets  the  money.  But  the  in- 
stance just  mentioned  was  the  only  one  in  which  Dumas  had 
the  disposal  of  his  household  goods.  The  presiding  divinity 
invariably  carried  them  away  with  her  when  she  had  to  make 
room  for  a  successor,  and  these  successions  generally  oc- 
curred once,  sometimes  twice,  a  year.  '•  La  reine  est  morte, 
vive  la  reine."  The  new  sovereign,  for  the  first  few  days  of 
her  reign,  had  to  be  content  with  bare  walls  and  very  few 
material  comforts  ;  then  the  nest  was  upholstered  afresh,  and 
"  il  n'y  avait  rien  de  change  en  la  demeure,  sauf  le  nom  de 
la  maitresse." 

Consequently,  though  for  forty  years  Alexandre  Dumas 
could  not  have  earned  less  than  eight  thousand  pounds  per 
annum ;  though  he  neither  smoked,  drank,  nor  gambled ; 
though,  in  spite  of  his  mania  for  cooking,  he  himself  was  the 
most  frugal  eater — the  beef  from  the  soup  of  the  previous 
day,  grilled,  was  his  favourite  dish, — it  rained  writs  and  sum- 
monses around  him,  while  he  himself  was  frequently  without 
a  penny. 

M.  du  Chaffault  one  day  told  me  of  a  scene  a  propos  of 
this  which  is  worth  reproducing.  He  was  chatting  to  Dumas 
in  his  study,  when  a  visitor  was  shown  in.  He  turned  out 
to  be  an  Italian  man  of  letters  and  refugee,  on  the  verge  of 
starvation.  M.  du  Chaffault  could  not  well  make  out  what 
was  said,  because  they  were  talking  Italian,  but  all  at  once 
Dumas  got  up  and  took  from  the  wall  behind  him  a  mag- 
nificent pistol,  one  of  a  pair.  The  visitor  walked  off  with  it, 
to  M.  du  Chaffault's  surprise.  When  he  was  gone,  Dumas 
turned  to  his  friend  and  explained  :  "  He  was  utterly  penni- 
less, and  so  am  I ;  so  I  gave  him  the  pistol." 

"  Great  Heavens,  you  surely  did  not  recommend  him  to 
go  and  make  an  end  of  himself  !"  interrupted  du  Chaf- 
fault. 

Dumas  burst  out  laughing.  "  Of  course  not.  I  merely 
told  him  to  go  and  sell  or  pawn  it,  and  leave  me  the  fellow 
one,  in  case  some  other  poor  wretch  should  want  assistance 
while  I  am  so  terribly  hard  up." 

And  yet,  in  this  very  Eue  d'Amsterdam,  whether  Dumas 
was  terribly  impecunious  or  not,  the  dejeuner,  which  gen- 
erally began  at  about  half-past  eleven,  was  rarely  finished 
before  half-past  four,  because  during  the  whole  of  that  time 
fresh  contingents  arrived  to  be  fed,  and  communication  was 


60  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

kept  up  between  the  apartment  and  the  butcher  for  corre- 
sponding fresh  supplies  of  beefsteaks  and  cutlets. 

Is  it  a  wonder,  then,  that  it  rained  summonses,  and  writs, 
and  other  law  documents  ?  But  no  one  took  much  notice 
of  these,  not  even  one  of  the  four  secretaries,  who  was  spe- 
cially appointed  to  look  after  these  things.  If  I  remember 
aright,  his  name  was  Hirschler.  The  names  of  the  other 
three  secretaries  were  Eusconi,  Viellot,  and  Fontaine.  'Un- 
fortunately, Hirschler  was  as  dilatory  as  his  master,  and, 
until  the  process-server  claimed  a  personal  interview,  as  in- 
different. These  "limbs  of  the  law"  were  marvellously 
polite.  I  was  present  one  day  at  an  interview  between  one 
of  these  and  Hirschler,  for  Dumas'  dwelling  was  absolutely 
and  literally  the  glass  house  of  the  ancient  philosopher — 
with  this  difference,  that  no  one  threw  any  stones  from  it. 
There  was  no  secret,  no  skeleton  in  the  cupboard ;  the  im- 
pecuniosity  and  the  recurrent  periods  of  plenty  were  both  as 
open  as  the  day. 

The  "man  of  law"  and  Hirschler  began  by  shaking 
hands,  for  they  were  old  acquaintances ;  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  find  a  process-server  in  Paris  who  was  not  an  old 
acquaintance  of  Dumas.  After  which  the  visitor  informed 
Hirschler  that  he  had  come  to  distrain. 

"  To  distrain  ?  I  did  not  know  we  had  got  as  far  as  that," 
said  Hirschler.  "  Wait  a  moment.  I  must  go  and  see."  It 
meant  that  Hirschler  repaired  to  the  kitchen,  where  stood  a 
large  oaken  sideboard,  in  a  capacious  drawer  of  which  all  the 
law  documents,  no  matter  by  whom  received,  were  indiscrimi- 
nately thrown,  to  be  fished  out  when  the  "  mauvais  quart 
d'heure  "  came,  and  not  until  then. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Hirschler,  but  not  in  the  least  wor- 
ried or  excited  "  I  really  did  not  know  we  had  got  as  far  as 
that.  ,  I  must  ask  you  to  wait  another  minute.  I  suppose  a 
third  01  a  fourth  of  the  total  amount  will  do  for  the  pres- 
ent ?  " 

"  Well,  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  process-server  with  most 
exquisite  politeness.  "  Try  what  you  can  do.  I  fancy  that 
with  a  third  I  may  manage  to  stop  proceedings  for  a  while." 

The  third  or  fourth  part  of  the  debt  was  rarely  in  the 
house  ;  messengers  had  to  be  despatched  for  it  to  Cadot,  the 
publisher,  or  to  the  cashier  of  the  Moniteur,  Constitutionnel^ 
or  Siecle.  Meanwhile  the  process-server  was  feasted  in  a 
sumptuous  way,  and  when  the  messenger  returned  with  the 


THE  TWO  DUMASES.  61 

sum  in  question,  Ilirschler  and  the  process-server  shook  hands 
once  more,  with  the  most  cordial  au  revoir  possible. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  tlie  same  process-server  reappeared 
upon  the  scene  in  a  few  months.  The  comedy  had  often  as 
many  as  a  dozen  representations,  so  that  it  may  safely  be  said 
that  a  great  number  of  Dumas'  debts  were  paid  six  or  seven 
times  over.  Even  sixpence  a  line  of  sixty  letters  did  not  suf- 
fice to  keep  pace  with  such  terrible  improvidence,  though  the 
remuneration  was  much  more  frequently  fourpence  or  five- 
pence.  It  rarely  rose  to  sevenpence  halfpenny,  but  in  all 
cases  a  third  went  to  Dumas'  collaborateurs,  another  third  to 
his  creditors,  and  the  rest  to  himself. 

I  have  allowed  my  pen  to  run  away  with  me.  One  more 
story,  and  then  I  leave  Alexandre  Dumas  for  the  present.  It 
is  simply  to  show  that  he  would  have  squandered  the  fortune 
of  all  the  Rothschilds  combined  :  I  repeat,  not  on  himself ; 
he  would  have  given  it  away,  or  allowed  it  to  be  taken.  He 
had  no  notion  of  the  value  of  money.  About  a  year  after  I 
had  made  his  acquaintance,  he  was  ill  at  Saint-Germain,  and 
I  went  to  see  him.  His  dog  had  bitten  him  severely  in  the 
right  hand ;  he  was  in  bed,  and  obliged  to  dictate.  His  son 
had  just  left  him,  and  he  told  me,  adding,  "  C'est  un  coeur 
d'or,  cet'  Alexandre."  Seeing  that  I  did  not  ask  what  had 
elicited  the  praise,  he  began  telling  me. 

"  This  morning  I  received  six  hundred  and  fifty  francs. 
Just  now  Alexandre  was  going  up  to  Paris,  and  he  says,  '  I'll 
take  fifty  francs.' 

"  I  did  not  pay  attention,  or  must  have  misunderstood  ; 
at  any  rate  I  replied,  '  Don't  take  as  much  as  that ;  leave  me 
a  hundred  francs.' 

"  '  What  do  you  mean,  father  ? '  he  asked.  '  I  am  telling 
you  that  I  am  going  to  take  fifty  francs.' 

"  '  I  beg  your  pardon,'  I  said.  '  I  understood  you  were 
going  to  take  six  hundred.'  " 

He  would  have  considered  it  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  for  his  son  to  take  six  hundred  and  leave  him  fifty ; 
just  as  he  considered  it  the  most  natural  thing  to  bare  his  arm 
and  to  have  a  dozen  leeches  put  on  it,  because  his  son,  when 
a  boy  of  eight,  having  met  with  an  accident,  would  not  con- 
sent to  blood-letting  of  that  kind.  In  vain  did  the  father  tell 
him  that  the  leeches  did  not  hurt.  "  Well,  put  some  on  your- 
self, and  then  I  will."  And  the  giant  turned  up  his  sleeves, 
and  did  as  he  was  told. 


62  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Dr.  Louis  V^ron — The  real  man  as  distinguished  from  tjiat  of  his  own  "  Mem- 
oirs"— He  takes  the  manacrement  of  the  Paris  Opera — How  it  was  gov- 
erned before  his  advent — Meyerbeer's  "Robert  le  Diable"  underlined — 
Meyerbeer  and  his  doubts  upon  the  merits  of  his  vfovk — Meyerbeer's  gen- 
erosity— Meyerbeer  and  the  beggars  of  the  Kue  Le  Peletier — Dr.  Veron, 
the  inventor  of  the  modern  newspaper  putF — Some  specimens  of  advertise- 
ments in  their  infancy — Dr.  Veron  takes  a  leaf  from  the  book  of  Moliere — 
Dr.  Veron's  love  of  money — His  superstitions — His  objections  to  travelling 
in  railways — He  quotes  the  Queen  of  England  as  an  example — When 
Queen  Victoria  overcomes  her  objection,  Veron  holds  out — "  Queen  Vic- 
toria has  got  a  successor:  the  Veron  dynasty  begins  and  ends  with  me" 
— Thirteen  at  table — I  make  the  acquaintance  of  Taglioni — The  woman 
and  the  ballerina — Her  adventure  at  Perth — An  improvised  performance 
of  "  Nathalie,  la  Laitiere  Suisse  " — Another  adventure  in  Eussia — A  modem 
Claude  Du-Val — My  last  meeting  with  Taglioni — A  dinner-party  at  De 
Momy's — A  comedy  scene  between  husbana  and  wife — Flotow,  tne  com- 
poser of  "Martha" — His  family — His  father's  objection  to  the  composer's 
profession — The  latter's  interview  with  M.  de  Samt-Georges,  the  author  of 
the  libretto  of  Balfe's  "Bohemian  Girl" — M.  de  Saint-Georges  prevails 
upon  the  father  to  let  his  son  study  in  Paris  for  Ave  years,  and  to  provide 
for  him  during  that  time — The  supplies  are  stopped  on  the  last  day  of  the 
fifth  year — Flotow,  at  the  advice  of  M.  de  Saint-Georges,  stays  on  and  lives 
by  giving  piano-lessons — His  earthly  possessions  at  his  first  success — "  Kob 
Roy"  at  the  Hotel  Castellane — Lord  Granville's  opinion  of  the  music — 
The  Hotel  Castellane  and  some  Paris  salons  during  Louis-Philippe's  reign 
— The  Princesse  de  Lieven's,  M.  Thiers',  etc. — What  Madame  de'Girardih's 
was  like — Victor  Hugo's — Perpetual  adoration ;  very  artistic,  but  nothing 
to  eat  or  to  drink — The  salon  of  the  ambassador  of  the  Two  Sicilies — Lord 
and  Lady  Granville  at  the  English  Embassy — The  salon  of  Count  Apponyi 
— A  story  connected  with  it — Furniture  and  entertainments— Cakes,  ices, 
and  tea ;  no  champagne  as  during  the  Second  Empire — The  Hotel  Castel- 
lane and  its  amateur  theatricals— Rival  companies — No  under-studies — 
Lord  Brougham  at  the  Hotel  Castellane — His  bad  French  and  his  would- 
be  Don  Juanism — A  French  rendering  of  Shakespeare's  "  There  is  but  one 
Btep  between  the  sublime  and  the  ridiculous,"  as  applied  to  Lord  Brougham 
— He  nearly  accepts  a  part  in  a  farce  where  his  bad  French  is  likely  to  pro- 
duce a  comic  effect — His  successor  as  a  murderer  of  the  language — M.  de 
Saint-Georges — Like  Moliere,  he  reads  his  plays  to  his  housekeeper — When 
the  latter  is  not  satisfied,  the  dinner  is  spoilt,  however  great  the  success  of 
the  play  in  public  estimation — Great  men  and  their  housekeepers — Turner, 
Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  Eugene  Delacroix. 

Next  to  Dumas,  the  man  who  is  uppermost  in  my  recol- 
lections of  that  period  is  Dr.  Louis  Veron,  the  founder  of  the 
Revue  de  Paris,  which  was  the  precursor  of  the  Revue  des 


DR.  VERON.  63 

De^ix  Mondes ;  Dr  Veron,  under  whose  management  the 
Paris  Opera  rose  to  a  degree  of  perfection  it  has  never  at- 
tained since  ;  Dr.  Veron,  who,  as  some  one  said,  was  as  much 
part  and  parcel  of  the  history  of  Paris  during  the  first  half 
of  the  nineteenth  century  as  was  Napoleon  I.  of  the  history 
of  France ;  Dr.  Veron,  than  whom  there  has  been  no  more 
original  figure  in  any  civilized  community  before  or  since, 
with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Phineas  Barnum,  to  whom, 
however,  he  was  infinitely  superior  in  education,  tact,  and 
manners. 

Dr.  Veron  has  written  his  own  "  Memoirs  "  in  six  bulky 
volumes,  to  which  he  added  a  seventh  a  few  years  later. 
They  are  full  of  interesting  facts  from  beginning  to  end, 
especially  to  those  who  did  not  know  intimately  the  author 
or  the  times  of  which  he  treats.  Those  who  did  are  tempted 
to  repeat  the  mot  of  Diderot  when  they  gave  him  the  portrait 
of  his  father.  "  This  is  my  Sunday  father  ;  I  want  my  every- 
day father."  The  painter,  in  fact,  had  represented  the  worthy 
cutler  of  Langres  in  his  best  coat  and  wig,  etc. ;  not  as  his 
son  had  been  in  the  habit  of  seeing  him.  The  Dr.  Veron  of 
the  "  Memoirs  "  is  not  the  Dr.  Veron  of  the  Cafe  de  Paris, 
nor  the  Dr.  Veron  of  the  avant-scene  in  his  own  theatre,  snor- 
ing a  duet  with  Auber,  and  "  keeping  better  time  than  the 
great  composer  himself ; "  he  is  not  the  Dr.  Veron  full  of  fads 
and  superstitions  and  uniformly  kind,  "  because  kindness  is 
as  a  rule  a  capital  investment ;  "  he  is  not  the  cheerful  pessi- 
mist we  knew ;  he  is  a  grumbling  optimist,  as  the  journalists 
of  his  time  have  painted  him ;  in  short,  in  his  book  he  is  a 
quasi-philanthropic  illusion,  while  in  reality  he  was  a  hard- 
hearted, shrewd  business  man  who  did  good  by  stealth  now 
and  then,  but  never  blushed  to  find  it  fame. 

The  event  which  proved  the  starting-point  of  Dr.  Veron's 
celebrity  was  neither  of  his  own  making  nor  of  his  own  seek- 
ing. Though  it  happened  when  I  was  a  mere  lad,  I  have 
heard  it  discussed  in  after -years  sufl&ciently  often  and  by  very 
good  authorities  to  be  confident  of  my  facts.  In  June,  1831, 
Dr.  Veron  took  the  management  of  the  Paris  Opera,  which 
up  till  then  had  been  governed  on  the  style  of  the  old  regime, 
namely,  by  three  gentlemen  of  the  king's  household  with  a 
working  director  under  them.  The  royal  privy  purse  was 
virtually  responsible  for  its  liabilities.  Louis- Philippe  shift- 
ed the  burden  of  that  responsibility  on  the  State,  and 
limited  its  extent.    The  three  gentlemen  of  the  king's  house- 


Q4:  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

hold  were  replaced  by  a  royal  commissioner,  and  the  yearly 
subsidy  fixed  at  £32,500  ;  still  a  pretty  round  sum,  which  has 
been  reduced  since  by  £500  only. 

At  Dr.  Veron's  advent,  Meyerbeer's  "  Robert  le  Diable  " 
was,  what  they  call  in  theatrical  parlance,  "  underlined,"  or, 
if  not  underlined,  at  least  definitely  accepted.  Only  one 
work  of  his  had  at  that  time  been  heard  in  Paris,  "  11  Crociato 
in  Egitto." 

It  is  difficult  to  determine,  after  so  many  years,  whether 
Dr.  Veron,  notwithstanding  his  artistic  instincts,  was  greatly 
smitten  with  the  German  composer's  masterpiece.  It  has 
often  been  argued  that  he  was  not,  because  he  insisted  upon 
an  indemnity  of  forty  thousand  francs  from  the  Government 
towards  the  cost  of  its  production.  In  the  case  of  a  man  like 
Veron,  this  proves  nothing  at  all.  He  may  have  been 
thoroughly  convinced  of  the  merits  of  "  Eobert  le  Diable," 
and  as  thoroughly  confident  of  its  success  with  the  public, 
though  no  manager,  not  even  the  most  experienced,  can  be ; 
it  would  not  have  prevented  him  from  squeezing  the  forty 
thousand  francs  from  the  minister  on  the  plea  that  the  per- 
formance of  the  work  was  imposed  upon  him  by  a  treaty  of 
his  predecessor.  To  Dr.  Veron's  credit  be  it  said  that  he 
might  have  saved  himself  the  hard  tussle  he  had  with  the 
minister  by  simply  applying  for  the  money  to  Meyerbeer 
himself,  who  would  have  given  it  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, rather  than  see  the  success  of  "  Robert  le  Diable  "  jeop- 
ardized by  inefficient  mounting,  although  up  to  the  last 
Meyerbeer  could  never  make  up  his  mind  whether  magnificent 
scenery  and  gorgeous  dresses  were  an  implied  compliment  or 
the  reverse  to  the  musical  value  of  his  compositions.  A  pro- 
pos  of  this  there  is  a  very  characteristic  story.  At  one  of  the 
final  dress-rehearsals  of  "  Robert  le  Diable,"  Meyerbeer  felt 
much  upset.  At  the  sight  of  that  beautiful  set  of  the  cloister 
of  Sainte-Rosalie,  where  the  nuns  rise  from  their  tombs,  at 
the  effect  produced  by  the  weird  procession,  Meyerbeer  came 
up  to  Veron. 

"  My  dear  director,"  he  said,  "  I  perceive  well  enough  that 
you  do  not  depend  upon  the  opera  itself ;  you  are,  in  fact, 
running  after  a  spectacular  success." 

"  Wait  till  the  fourth  act,"  replied  V6ron,  who  was  above 
all  logical. 

The  curtain  rose  upon  the  fourth  act,  and  what  did  Meyer- 
beer behold?    Instead  of  the  vast,  grandiose  apartment  he 


MEYERBEER'S  CHARITY.  65 

had  conceived  for  Isabella,  Princess  of  Sicily,  he  found  a 
mean,  shabby  set,  which  would  have  been  deemed  scarcely 
good  enough  for  a  minor  theatre. 

"Decidedly,  my  dear  director,"  said  Meyerbeer,  with  a 
bitter  twinge  in  his  features  and  voice,  "  I  perceive  well 
enough  that  you  have  no  faith  in  my  score ;  you  did  not  even 
dare  go  to  the  expense  of  a  new  set.  I  would  willingly  have 
paid  for  it  myself." 

And  he  would  willingly  have  paid  for  it,  because  Meyer- 
beer was  not  only  very  rich,  but  very  generous. 

"  It  is  a  very  funny  thing,"  said  Lord ,  as  he  came 

into  the  Cafe  de  Paris  one  morning,  many  years  afterwards ; 
"  there  are  certain  days  in  the  week  when  the  Eue  Le  Pele- 
tier  seems  to  be  swarming  with  beggars,  and,  what  is  funnier 
still,  they  don't  take  any  notice  of  me.  I  pass  absolutely 
scot-free." 

"  I'll  bet,"  remarked  Eoger  de  Beauvoir,  "  that  they  are 
playing  '  Robert  le  Diable '  or '  Les  Huguenots '  to-night,  and 
I  can  assure  you  that  I  have  not  seen  the  bills." 

"  Now  that  you  speak  of  it,  they  are  playing  '  Les  Hugue- 
nots '  to-night,"  replied  Lord ;  "  but  what  has  that  to  do 

with  it  ?  I  am  not  aware  that  the  Paris  beggars  manifest  a 
particular  predilection  for  Meyerbeer's  operas,  and  that  they 
are  booking  their  places  on  the  days  they  are  performed." 

"  It's  simply  this,"  explained  De  Beauvoir :  "  both  Eossini 
and  Meyerbeer  never  fail  to  come  of  a  morning  to  look  at  the 
bills,  and  when  the  latter  finds  his  name  on  them,  he  is  so 
overjoyed  that  he  absolutely  empties  his  pockets  of  all  the 
cash  they  contain.  Notwithstanding  his  many  years  of  suc- 
cess, he  is  still  afraid  that  the  public's  liking  for  his  music  is 
merely  a  passing  fancy,  and  as  every  additional  performance 
decreases  this  apprehension,  he  thinks  he  cannot  be  suffi- 
ciently thankful  to  Providence.  His  gratitude  shows  itself 
in  almsgiving." 

I  made  it  my  business  subsequently  to  verify  what  I  con- 
sidered De  Beauvoir's  fantastical  statement,  and  I  found  it 
substantially  correct. 

To  return  to  Dr.  Veron,  who,  there  is  no  doubt,  did  the 
best  he  could  for  "  Robert  le  Diable,"  to  which  and  to  the 
talent  of  Taglioni  he  owed  his  fortune.  At  the  same  time,  it 
would  be  robbing  him  of  part  of  his  glory  did  we  not  state 
that  the  success  of  that  great  work  might  have  been  less  sig- 
nal but  for  him ;  both  his  predecessors  and  successors  had 


66  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

and  have  still  equally  good  chances  without  having  availed 
themselves  of  them,  either  in  the  interest  of  lyrical  art  or  in 
that  of  the  public. 

I  compared  Dr.  Veron  just  now  to  Phiueas  Barnum,  and 
the  comparison  was  not  made  at  random.  Dr.  Veron  was 
really  the  inventor  of  the  newspaper  puff  direct  and  indirect 
— of  that  personal  journalism  which  records  the  slightest 
deed  or  gesture  of  the  popular  theatrical  manager,  and  which 
at  the  present  day  is  carried  to  excess.  And  all  his  subor- 
dinates and  co-workers  were  made  to  share  the  advantages  of 
the  system,  because  their  slightest  doings  also  reflected  glory 
upon  him.  An  artist  filling  at  a  moment's  notice  the  part  of 
a  fellow-artist  who  had  become  suddenly  ill,  a  carpenter  sav- 
ing by  his  presence  of  mind  the  situation  at  a  critical  junct- 
ure, had  not  only  his  paragraph  in  next  morning's  papers, 
but  a  whole  column,  containing  the  salient  facts  of  his  life 
and  career.  It  was  the  system  of  Frederick  the  Great  and  of 
the  first  Napoleon,  acknowledging  the  daring  deeds  of  their 
smallest  as  well  as  of  their  foremost  aids — with  this  differ- 
ence, that  the  French  captain  found  it  convenient  to  sup- 
press them  now  and  then,  and  that  Dr.  Veron  never  at- 
tempted to  do  so.  When  the  idea  of  putting  down  these 
notes  first  entered  my  mind,  I  looked  over  some  files  of  news- 
papers of  that  particular  period,  and  there  was  scarcely  one 
between  1831  and  1835  that  did  not  contain  a  lengthy  refer- 
ence to  the  Grand  Opera  and  its  director.  I  was  irresistibly 
reminded  of  the  bulletins  tlie  great  Napoleon  dictated  on  the 
battle-field.  I  have  also  seen  a  collection  of  posters  relating 
to  the  same  brilliant  reign  at  the  Opera.  Of  course,  com- 
pared to  the  eloquent  effusions  and  ingenious  attempts  of  the 
contemporary  theatrical  manager  to  bait  the  public,  Veron's 
are  mere  child's  play ;  still  we  must  remember  that  the  art  of 
puffing  was  in  its  infancy,  and,  as  such,  some  of  them  are 
worth  copying.  The  public  was  not  so  hlase^  and  it  swallowed 
the  bait  eagerly.     Here  they  are. 

"  To-morrow  tenth  performance  of  ...  ,  which  hence- 
forth will  only  be  played  at  rare  intervals. 

"  To-morrow  twentieth  performance  of  ...  ;  positively 
the  last  before  the  departure  of  M.  .  .  . 

"  To-morrow  seventeenth  performance  of  ...  ;  reappear- 
ance of  Madame  .  .  . 

"  To-morrow  fifteenth  performance  of  .  .  .  by  all  the 
principal  artists  who  '  created '  the  parts. 


PRIMITIVE   PUFFING.  67 

"  To-morrow  thirtieth  performance  of  .  .  .  The  third 
scene  of  the  second  act  will  be  played  as  on  the  first  night. 

"  To-morrow  twentieth  performance  of  ...  ,  which  can 
only  be  played  for  a  limited  number  of  nights. 

"  To-morrow  sixteenth  performance  of  .  .  .  In  the  Ball- 
Room  Scene  a  new  pas  de  Chales  will  be  introduced. 

"  To-morrow  thirtieth  performance  of  .  .  .  This  success- 
ful work  must  be  momentarily  suspended  owing  to  previous 
arrangements." 

Childish  as  these  lines  may  look  to  the  present  generation, 
they  produced  a  fortune  of  £2000  a  year  to  Dr.  Veron  in  four 
years,  and,  but  for  the  outbreak  of  the  cholera  in  '32,  when 
"  Robert  le  Diable  "  was  in  the  flush  of  its  success,  would  have 
produced  another  £1000  per  annum.  At  that  time  Dr.  Veron 
had  already  been  able  to  put  aside  £24,000,  and  he  might 
have  easily  closed  his  theatre  during  those  terrible  months ; 
but,  like  Moliere,  he  asked  himself  what  would  become  of  all 
those  who  were  dependent  upon  him,  and  had  not  put  aside 
anything  ;  so  he  made  his  savings  into  ten  parcels,  intending 
to  hold  out  as  many  months  without  asking  help  of  any  one. 
Five  of  the  parcels  went.  At  the  beginning  of  the  sixth 
month  the  cholera  abated ;  by  the  end  it  had  almost  dis- 
appeared. 

Those  who  would  infer  from  this  that  Dr.  Veron  was  in- 
different to  money,  would  make  a  great  mistake.  But  he 
would  not  allow  his  love  of  it  to  get  the  upper  hand,  to  come 
between  him  and  his  conscience,  to  make  him  commit  either 
a  dishonest  or  a  foolish  act.  By  a  foolish  act  he  meant  head- 
long speculation.  When  the  shares  of  the  Northern  Rail- 
way were  allotted,  Dr.  Veron  owned  the  Constitutionnel ; 
150  shares  were  allotted  to  him,  which  at  that  moment  repre- 
sented a  clear  profit  of  60,000  francs,  they  being  400  francs 
above  par.  Dr.  Veron  made  up  his  mind  to  realize  there  and 
then.  But  it  was  already  late ;  the  Bourse  was  closed,  the 
stockbrokers  had  finished  business  for  the  day.  He,  however, 
met  one  on  the  Boulevards,  who  gave  him  a  cheque  for  55,000 
francs  on  the  Bank  of  France,  which  could  only  be  cashed 
next  day.  The  shares  were  left  meanwhile  in  Dr.  Veron's 
possession.  Three  minutes  after  the  bargain  was  concluded 
Dr.  Veron  went  back  to  his  office.  "  I  must  have  ready 
money  for  this,  or  decline  the  transaction,"  he  said.  The 
stockbroker,  by  applying  to  two  of  his  colleagues,  managed 
to  scrape  together  50,000  francs.     Dr.  Veron  gave  him  a 


68  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

receipt  in  full,  returned  home,  singing  as  he  went  the  French 
version  of  "  A  bird  in  the  hand,"  etc. 

Veron  was  exceedingly  superstitious,  and  had  fads.  He 
could  never  be  induced  to  take  a  railway  Journey.  It  was 
generally  known  in  France  at  that  time  that,  in  the  early 
days  of  locomotion  by  steam.  Queen  Victoria  had  held  a 
similar  objection.  Veron,  when  twitted  with  his  objection, 
invariably  replied,  "  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  the  Queen  of 
England  is  less  enlightened  than  any  of  you,  and  she  will 
not  enter  a  railway  carriage."  But  one  day  the  report  spread 
that  the  queen  had  made  a  journey  from  Windsor  to  London 
by  the  "  iron  horse,"  and  then  Veron  was  sorely  pressed.  He 
had  his  answer  ready.  "  The  Queen  of  England  has  got  a 
successor :  the  Veron  dynasty  begins  and  ends  with  me.  I 
must  take  care  to  make  it  last  as  long  as  possible."  He  stuck 
to  his  text  till  the  end  of  his  life. 

On  no  consideration  would  Veron  have  sat  down  "  thirteen 
at  table."  Once  or  twice  when  the  guests  and  host  made  up 
that  number,  his  coachman's  son  was  sent  for,  dressed,  and 
made  presentable,  and  joined  the  party  ;  at  others  he  politely 
requested  two  or  three  of  us  to  go  and  dine  at  the  Cafe  de 
Paris,  and  to  have  the  bill  sent  to  him.  We  drew  lots  as  to 
who  was  to  go. 

It  was  through  Dr.  Veron  that  I  became  acquainted  with 
most  of  the  operatic  celebrities — Meyerbeer,  Halevy,  Auber, 
Duprez,  etc. ;  for  though  he  had  abdicated  his  directorship 
seven  or  eight  years  before  we  met,  he  was  perhaps  a  greater 
power  then  in  the  lyrical  world  than  at  the  date  of  his 
reign. 

It  was  at  Dr.  Veron's  that  I  saw  Mdlle.  Taglioni  for  the 
first  time — off  the  stage.  It  must  have  been  in  1844,  for  she 
had  not  been  in  Paris  since  1840,  when  I  had  seen  her  dance 
at  the  Opera.  I  had  only  seen  her  dance  once  before  that,  in 
'36  or  '37,  but  I  was  altogether  too  young  to  judge  then.  I 
own  that  in  1840  I  was  somewhat  disappointed,  and  my  dis- 
appointment was  shared  by  many,  because  some  of  my  friends, 
to  whom  I  communicated  my  impressions,  told  me  that  her 
tliree  years'  absence  had  made  a  vast  difference  in  her  art. 
In  '44  it  was  still  worse  ;  her  performances  gave  rise  to  many 
a  spiteful  epigram,  for  she  herself  invited  comparison  between 
her  former  glory  and  her  decline,  by  dancing  in  one  of  her 
most  successful  creations,  "  L'Ombre."  Those  most  leniently 
disposed  towards  her  thought  what  Alfred  de  Musset  so 


TAGLIONA.  g9 

gi-acefully  expressed  when  requested  to  write  some  verses  in 
her  album. 

"  Si  vous  ne  voulez  plus  danser, 
Si  vous  ue  faites  que  passer 
Sur  ce  grand  theatre  si  sombre, 
Ke  courez  pas  apres  votre  ombre 
Et  tachez  de  nous  la  laisser." 

My  disappointment  with  the  ballerina  was  as  nothing, 
however,  to  my  disappointment  with  the  woman.  I  had 
been  able  to  determine  for  myself  before  then  that  Marie 
Taglioni  was  by  no  means  a  good-looking  woman,  but  I  did 
not  expect  her  to  be  so  plain  as  she  was.  That,  after  all,  was 
not  her  fault ;  but  she  might  have  tried  to  make  amends  for 
her  lack  of  personal  charms  by  her  amiability.  She  rarely 
attempted  to  do  so,  and  never  with  Frenchmen.  Her  recep- 
tion of  them  Avas  freezing  to  a  degree,  and  on  the  occasions — 
few  and  far  between — when  she  thawed,  it  was  with  Russians, 
Englishmen,  or  Viennese.  Any  male  of  the  Latin  races  she 
held  metaphorically  as  well  as  literally  at  arm's  length.  Of 
the  gracefulness,  so  apparent  on  tlie  stage,  even  in  her  decline, 
there  was  not  a  trace  to  be  found  in  private  life.  One  of  her 
shoulders  was  higher  than  the  other ;  she  limped  slightly, 
and,  moreover,  waddled  like  a  duck.  The  pinched  mouth 
was  firmly  set ;  there  was  no  smile  on  the  colourless  lips,  and 
she  replied  to  one's  remarks  in  monosyllables. 

Truly  she  had  suffered  a  cruel  wrong  at  the  hands  of  men 
— of  one  man,  bien  entendu ;  nevertheless,  the  wonder  to 
most  people  who  knew  her  was  not  that  Comte  Gilbert  de 
Voisins  should  have  left  her  so  soon  after  their  marriage,  but 
tliat  he  should  have  married  her  at  all.  "  The  fact  was,"  said 
some  one  with  Avhom  I  discussed  the  marriage  one  day,  "  that 
De  Voisins  considered  himself  in  honour  bound  to  make  that 
reparation,  but  I  cannot  conceive  what  possessed  him  to  com- 
mit the  error  that  made  the  reparation  necessary."  And  I 
am  bound  to  say  that  it  was  not  the  utter  lack  of  personal 
attractions  that  made  every  one,  men  and  women  alike,  indif- 
ferent to  Taglioni.  She  was  v/hat  the  French  call  "une 
pimb^che."  *  "  Am  I  not  a  good-natured  woman  ?  "  said 
Mdlle,  Mars  one  day  to  Hoffman,  the  blood-curdling  novelist. 
"  Mademoiselle,  you  are  the  most  amiable  creature  I  know 
between  the  footlights  and  the  cloth,"  he  replied.     No  one 

*  The  word  "  shrew  "  is  the  nearest  equivalent. — Editor. 


70  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

could  have  paid  Taglioni  even  such  a  left-handed  compli- 
ment, for,  if  all  I  heard  was  true,  she  was  not  good-tempered 
either  on  or  off  the  stage.  Dr.  Veron,  who  was  really  a  very 
loyal  friend,  was  very  reticent  ahout  her  character,  and  would 
never  be  drawn  into  revelations.  "  You  know  the  French 
proverb,"  he  said  once,  when  I  pressed  him  very  closely.  " '  On 
ne  herite  pas  de  ceux  que  Ton  tue ; '  and,  after  all,  she  helped 
me  to  make  my  fortune." 

That  evening  I  was  seated  next  to  Mdlle.  Taglioni  at  din- 
ner, and  when  she  discovered  my  nationality  she  unbent  a 
little,  so  that  towards  the  dessert  we  were  on  comparatively 
friendly  terms.  She  had  evidently  very  grateful  recollections 
of  her  engagements  in  London,  for  it  was  the  only  topic  on 
which  1  could  get  her  to  talk  on  that  occasion.  Here  is  a 
little  story  I  had  from  her  own  lips,  and  which  shows  the 
Scotch  of  the  early  thirties  in  quite  a  new  light.  It  may 
have  been  known  once,  but  has  been  probably  forgotten  by 
now,  except  by  the  "  oldest  inhabitant "  of  Perth.  In  1833 
or  1833 — I  will  not  vouch  for  the  exact  year,  seeing  that  it  is 
two  score  of  years  since  the  story  was  told  to  me — the  season 
in  London  had  been  a  fatiguing  one  for  Taglioni.  A  ballet 
her  father  had  composed  for  her,  "  Nathalie,  on  la  Laitiere 
Suisse,"  a  very  inane  thing  by  all  accounts,  had  met  with 
great  success  in  London.  The  scene,  however,  had,  as  far  as 
I  could  make  out,  been  changed  from  Switzerland  to  Scot- 
land, but  of  this  I  will  not  be  certain.  At  the  termination 
of  her  engagement  Taglioni  wanted  rest,  and  she  bethought 
herself  to  recruit  in  the  Highlands.  After  travelling  hither 
and  thither  for  a  little  while,  she  arrived  at  Perth,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  put  down  her  name  in  the  visitors'  book  of 
the  hotel,  then  went  out  to  explore  the  sights  of  the  town. 
Meanwhile  the  report  of  her  arrival  had  spread  like  wildfire, 
and  on  her  return  to  the  hotel  she  found  awaiting  her  a  depu- 
tation from  the  principal  inhabitants,  with  the  request  to 
honour  them  with  a  performance.  "  The  request  was  so  gra- 
ciously conveyed,"  said  Taglioni,  "  that  I  could  not  but  ac- 
cept, though  I  took  care  to  point  out  the  difficulties  of  per- 
forming a  ballet  all  by  myself,  seeing  that  there  was  neither 
a  corps  de  ballet,  a  male  dancer,  nor  any  one  else  to  support 
me.  All  these  objections  were  overruled  by  their  promise  to 
provide  all  these  in  the  best  way  they  could,  and  before  I  had 
time  to  consider  the  matter  fully,  I  was  taken  off  in  a  cab  to 
inspect  the  theatre,  etc.     Great  heavens,  what  a  stage  and 


A   SCRATCH   PERFORMAXCE.  71 

scenery !  Still,  I  had  given  my  promise,  and,  seeing  their 
anxiety,  would  not  go  back  from  it.  I  cannot  tell  where 
they  got  their  person7iel  from.  There  was  a  director  and  a 
stage-manager,  but  as  he  did  not  understand  French,  and  as 
my  English  at  that  time  was  even  worse  than  it  is  now,  we 
were  obliged  to  communicate  through  an  interpreter.  His 
English  must  have  been  bewildering,  to  judge  from  the  man- 
ager's blank  looks  when  he  spoke  to  him,  and  his  French  was 
even  more  wonderful  than  my  English.  He  was  a  German 
waiter  from  the  hotel. 

"  Nevertheless,  thanks  to  him,  I  managed  to  convey  the 
main  incidents  of  the  plot  of  '  Nathalie '  to  the  manager,  and 
during  the  first  act,  the  most  complicated  one,  all  went  well. 
But  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  everything  threatened  to 
come  to  a  standstill.  I  must  tell  you  that  my  father  hit  upon 
the  novel  idea  of  introducing  a  kind  of  dummy,  or  lay  figure, 
on  which  this  idiotic  Nathalie  lavishes  all  her  caresses.  The 
young  fellow,  who  is  in  love  with  Nathalie,  contrives  to  take 
the  dummy's  place  ;  consequently,  in  order  to  preserve  some 
semblance  of  truth,  and  not  to  make  Nathalie  appear  more 
idiotic  than  she  is  already,  there  ought  to  be  a  kind  of  like- 
ness between  the  dummy  and  the  lover.  I  know  not  whether 
the  interpreter  had  been  at  fault,  or  whether  in  the  hurry- 
scurry  I  had  forgotten  all  about  the  dummy,  but  a  few  min- 
utes before  the  rise  of  the  curtain  I  discovered  that  there  was 
no  dummy.  '  You  must  do  the  dummy,'  I  said  to  Pierre,  my 
servant,  '  and  I'll  pretend  to  carry  you  on.'  Pierre  nodded  a 
silent  assent,  and  immediately  began  to  don  the  costume,  see- 
ing which  I  had  the  curtain  rung  up,  and  went  on  to  the 
stage.  I  was  not  very  comfortable,  though,  for  I  heard  a 
violent  altercation  going  on  behind  the  scenes,  the  cause  of 
which  I  failed  to  guess.  I  kept  dancing  and  dancing,  getting 
near  to  the  wings  every  now  and  then,  to  ask  whether  Pierre 
was  ready.  He  seemed  to  mo  inordinately  long  in  changing 
his  dress,  but  the  delay  was  owing  to  something  far  more 
serious  than  his  careful  preparation  for  the  part.  Pierre 
had  a  pair  of  magnificent  whiskers,  and  the  young  fellow 
who  enacted  the  lover  had  not  a  hair  on  his  face.  Pierre 
was  ready  to  go  on,  when  the  manager  noticed  the  differ- 
ence. '  Stop  ! '  he  shouted  ;  '  that  won't  do.  You  must 
have  your  whiskers  taken  off.'  Pierre  indignantly  refused. 
The  manager  endeavoured  to  persuade  him  to  make  the 
sacrifice,  but  in  vain,  until  at  last  he  had  him  held  down  on 


72  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

a  chair  by  two  stalwart  Scotchmen  while  the  barber  did  his 
work. 

"  All  this  had  taken  time,  but  the  public  did  not  grow 
impatient.  They  would  have  been  very  difficult  to  please 
indeed  had  they  behaved  otherwise,  for  I  never  danced  to 
any  audience  as  I  did  to  them.  One  of  the  few  pleasant 
recollections  in  my  life  is  that  evening  at  Perth ;  and,  curi- 
ously enough,  Pierre,  who  is  still  with  me,  refers  to  it  with 
great  enthusiasm,  notwithstanding  the  cavalier  treatment  in- 
flicted upon  him.  It  was  his  first  and  last  appearance  on 
any  stage." 

Here  is  another  story  Taglioni  told  me  on  a  subsequent 
occasion.  I  have  often  wondered  since  whether  Macaulay 
would  not  have  been  pleased  with  it  even  more  than  I  was. 

"  The  St.  Petersburg  theatrical  season  of  '24-'25  had  been 
particularly  brilliant,  and  nowhere  more  so  than  at  the  Italian 
Opera.  I  came  away  laden  with  presents,  among  others  one 
from  the  Czar — a  magnificent  necklet  of  very  fine  pearls. 
When  the  theatre  closed  at  Lent,  I  was  very  anxious  to  get 
away,  in  spite  of  the  inclement  season,  and  notwithstanding 
the  frequent  warnings  that  the  roads  were  not  safe.  When- 
ever the  conversation  turned  on  that  topic,  the  name  of 
Trischka  was  sure  to  crop  up ;  he,  in  fact,  was  the  leader  of 
a  formidable  band  of  highwaymen,  compared  with  whose 
exploits  those  of  all  the  others  seemed  to  sink  into  insignifi- 
cance. Trischka  had  been  steward  to  Prince  Paskiwiecz,  and 
was  spoken  of  as  a  very  intelligent  fellow.  Nearly  every  one 
with  whom  I  came  in  contact  had  seen  him  while  he  was  still 
at  St.  Petersburg,  and  had  a  good  word  to  say  for  him.  His 
manners  were  reported  to  be  perfect ;  he  spoke  French  and 
German  very  fairly  ;  and,  most  curious  of  all,  he  was  an  ex- 
cellent dancer.  Some  Avent  even  as  far  as  to  say  that  if  he 
had  adopted  that  profession,  instead  of  scouring  the  high- 
ways, he  would  have  made  a  fortune.  By  all  accounts  he 
never  molested  poor  people,  and  the  rich,  whom  he  laid 
under  contribution,  had  never  to  complain  of  violent  treat- 
ment either  in  words  or  deeds — nay,  more,  he  never  took 
all  they  possessed  from  his  victims,  he  was  content  to 
share  and  share  alike.  But  papa  n'ecoutait  pas  de  cet'  oreille 
la ;  papa  §tait  tres  peu  partageur ;  and,  truth  to  tell,  I  was 
taking  away  a  great  deal  of  money  from  St.  Petersburg — 
which  was  perhaps  another  reason  why  papa  did  not  see  the 
necessity  of  paying  tithes  to  Trischka.     If  we  had  followed 


TAGLIONI'S  HUSBAND.  73 

papa's  advice,  we  should  have  either  applied  to  the  Czar  for 
an  armed  escort,  or  else  delayed  our  departure  till  the  middle 
of  the  summer,  though  he  failed  to  see  that  the  loss  of  my  en- 
gagements elsewhere  vrould  have  amounted  to  a  serious  item 
also.  But  papa  had  got  it  into  his  head  not  to  part  with  any 
of  the  splendid  presents  I  had  received ;  they  v/ere  mostly 
jewels,  and  people  who  do  not  know  papa  can  form  no  idea 
what  they  meant  to  him.  However,  as  we  were  plainly 
told  that  Trischka  conducted  his  operations  all  the  year 
round,  that  we  were  as  likely  to  be  attacked  by  him  in  sum- 
mer as  in  winter,  papa  reluctantly  made  up  his  mind  to  go 
in  the  beginning  of  April.  Papa  provided  himself  with  a 
pair  of  large  pistols  that  would  not  have  hurt  a  cat,  and  were 
the  laughing-stock  of  all  those  who  accompanied  us  for  the 
first  dozen  miles  on  our  journey ;  for  I  had  made  many  friends, 
and  they  insisted  on  doing  this.  We  had  two  very  roomy 
carriages.  My  father,  my  maid,  two  German  violinists,  and 
myself  were  in  the  first ;  the  second  contained  our  luggage. 

"  At  the  first  change  of  horses  after  Pskoff,  the  postmaster 
told  us  that  Trischka  and  his  band  had  been  seen  a  few  days 
previously  on  the  road  to  Dunabourg ,  at  the  same  time,  he 
seemed  to  think  very  lightly  of  the  matter,  and,  addressing 
himself  particularly  to  me,  opined  that,  with  a  little  diplo- 
macy on  my  part  and  a  good  deal  of  sang-froid,  I  might  be 
let  off  very  cheaply.  All  went  Avell  until  the  middle  of  the 
next  night,  when  all  of  a  sudden,  in  the  thick  of  a  dense 
forest,  our  road  was  barred  by  a  couple  of  horsemen,  while  a 
third  opened  the  door  of  our  carriage.  It  was  Trischka  him- 
self. '  Mademoiselle  Taglioni  ? '  he  said  in  very  good  German, 
lifting  his  hat.  '  I  am  Mademoiselle  Taglioni,'  I  replied  in 
French.  '  I  know,'  he  answered,  with  a  deeper  bow  than 
before.  '  I  was  told  you  were  coming  this  way.  I  am  sorry, 
mademoiselle,  that  I  could  not  come  to  St.  Petersburg  to  see 
you  dance,  but  as  chance  has  befriended  me,  I  hope  you  will 
do  me  the  honour  to  dance  before  me  here.'  '  How  can  I 
dance  here,  in  this  road,  monsieur  ? '  I  said  beseechingly. 
'  Alas,  mademoiselle,  I  have  no  drawing-room  to  offer  you,' 
he  replied,  still  as  polite  as  ever.  '  Nevertheless,'  he  con- 
tinued, '  if  you  think  it  cannot  be  done,  I  shall  be  under  the 
painful  necessity  of  confiscating  your  carriages  and  luggage, 
and  of  sending  you  back  on  foot  to  the  nearest  post-town.' 
'  But,  monsieur,'  I  protested, '  the  road  is  ankle-deep  in  mud.' 
'  Truly,'  he  laughed,  showing  a  beautiful  set  of  teeth, '  but 

4 


74  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

your  weight  won't  make  any  difference ;  besides,  I  dare  say 
you  have  some  rugs  and  cloths  with  you  in  the  other  car- 
riage, and  my  men  will  only  be  too  pleased  to  spread  them 
on  the  ground.' 

"  Seeing  that  all  my  remonstrance  would  be  in  vain,  I 
jumped  out  of  the  carriage.  While  the  rugs  Avere  being  laid 
down,  my  two  companions,  the  violinists,  tuned  their  instru- 
ments, and  even  papa  was  prevailed  upon  to  come  out,  though 
he  was  sulky  and  never  spoke  a  word. 

"  I  danced  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  I  honestly 
believe  that  I  never  had  such  an  appreciative  audience  either 
before  or  afterwards.  Then  Trischka  led  me  back  to  the  car- 
riage, and,  simply  lifting  his  hat,  bade  me  adieu.  '  I  keep  the 
rugs,  mademoiselle.  I  will  never  part  with  them,'  he  said.  The 
last  I  saw  of  him,  when  our  carriages  were  turning  a  bend  in 
the  road,  was  a  truly  picturesque  figure  on  horseback,  waving 
his  hand." 

More  than  eight  years  elapsed  before  I  met  Taglioni 
again,  and  then  she  looked  absolutely  like  an  old  woman, 
though  she  was  under  fifty.  It  was  at  the  Comte  (afterwards 
Due)  de  Morny's,  in  '53,  and,  if  I  remember  rightly,  almost 
immediately  after  his  resignation  as  Minister  of  the  Interior. 
Taglioni  and  Mdlle.  Rachel  were  the  only  women  present. 
Just  as  we  were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  Count  Gilbert  de 
Voisins  came  in,  and  took  the  next  seat  but  one  on  my  left 
which  had  been  reserved  for  him.  We  were  on  friendly, 
though  not  on  very  intimate  terms.  He  was  evidently  not 
aware  of  the  presence  of  his  wife,  for  after  a  few  minutes  he 
asked  his  neighbour,  pointing  to  her, "  Who  is  this  governess- 
looking  old  maid  ?  "  He  told  him.  He  showed  neither  sur- 
prise nor  emotion ;  but,  if  an  artist  could  have  been  found 
to  sketch  his  face  there,  its  perfect  blank  would  have  been 
more  amusing  than  either.  He  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  consult 
his  recollections;  then  he  said,  "Is  it?  It  may  be,  after 
all;"  and  went  on  eating  his  dinner.  His  wife  acted  less 
diplomatically.  She  recognized  him  at  once,  and  made  a  re- 
mark to  her  host  in  a  sufficiently  loud  voice  to  be  overheard, 
which  was  not  in  good  taste,  the  more  that  De  Morny,  not- 
withstanding his  many  faults,  was  not  the  man  to  have  in- 
vited both  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  playing  a  practical  joke. 
In  fact,  I  have  always  credited  De  Morny  with  the  good  in- 
tention of  bringing  about  a  reconciliation  between  the  two ; 
but  the  affair  was  hopeless  from  the  very  beginning,  after 


VON  FLOTOW.  75 

Taglioni's  exhibition  of  temper.  I  am  far  from  saying  that 
Count  Gilbert  would  have  been  more  tractable  if  it  had  not 
occurred,  but  his  spouse  shut  the  door  at  once  upon  every 
further  attempt  in  that  direction.  Nevertheless,  whether  out 
of  sheer  devilry  or  from  a  wish  to  be  polite,  he  went  up  to 
her  after  dinner,  accomjianied  by  a  friend,  who  introduced 
him  as  formally  as  if  he  and  she  had  never  seen  one  another. 
It  was  at  a  moment  when  the  Comte  de  Morny  was  out  of 
the  room,  because  I  feel  certain  that  he  was  already  sorry 
then  for  what  he  had  endeavoured  to  do,  and  had  washed  his 
hands  of  the  whole  affair.  Taglioni  made  a  stately  bow.  "  I 
am  under  the  impression,"  she  said,  "  that  I  have  had  the 
honour  of  meeting  you  before,  about  the  year  1832."  With 
this  she  turned  away.  Let  any  playwright  reproduce  that 
scene  in  a  farcical  or  comedy  form,  and  I  am  sure  that  three- 
fourths  of  his  audience  would  scout  it  as  too  exaggerated,  and 
yet  every  incident  of  it  is  absolutely  true. 

Among  my  most  pleasant  recollections  of  those  days  is 
that  connected  with  Von  Flotow,  the  future  composer  of 
"  Martha."  In  appearance  he  was  altogether  unlike  the 
traditional  musician ;  he  looked  more  like  a  stalwart  officer 
of  dragoons.  Though  of  noble  origin,  and  with  a  very 
wealthy  father,  there  was  a  time  when  he  had  a  hard  strug- 
gle for  existence.  Count  von  Flotow,  his  father,  and  an  old 
officer  of  Blucher,  was  nearly  as  much  opposed  to  his  son 
becoming  a  musician  as  Frederick  the  Great's.  Neverthe- 
less, at  tiie  instance  of  Flotow's  mother,  he  was  sent  to  Paris 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  and  entered  the  Conservatoire,  then 
under  the  direction  of  Reicha.  His  term  of  apprenticeship 
was  not  to  extend  beyond  two  years,  "  for,"  said  the  count, 
"  it  does  not  take  longer  for  the  rawest  recruit  to  become  a 
good  soldier."  "  That  will  give  you  a  fair  idea,"  remarked 
Von  Flotow  to  me  afterwards,  "  how  much  he  understood 
about  it.  He  had  an  ill-disguised  contempt  for  any  music 
which  did  not  come  up  to  his  ideal.  His  ideal  was  that  per- 
formed by  the  drum,  the  fife,  and  the  bugle.  And  the  very 
fact  of  Germany  ringing  a  few  years  later  with  the  names  of 
Meyerbeer  and  Ilalevy  made  matters  worse  instead  of  mend- 
ing them.  His  feudal  pride  would  not  allow  of  his  son's 
entering  a  profession  the  foremost  ranks  of  which  were  occu- 
pied by  Jews.  'Music,'  he  said,  'was  good  enough  for 
bankers'  sons  and  the  like,'  and  he  considered  that  Weber 
had  cast  a  slur  upon  his  family  by  adopting  it." 


76  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

The  two  years  grudgingly  allowed  by  Count  von  Flotow 
for  his  son's  musical  education  were  interrupted  by  the 
revolution  of  1830,  and  the  young  fellow  had  to  return  home 
before  he  was  eighteen,  because,  in  his  father's  opinion,  "  he 
had  not  given  a  sign  of  becoming  a  great  musician ; "  in 
other  words,  he  had  not  written  an  opera  or  anything  else 
which  had  attracted  public  notice.  However,  towards  the 
beginning  of  1831,  the  count  took  his  son  to  Paris  once 
more ;  "  and  though  Meyerbeer  nor  Halevy  were  not  so 
famous  then  as  they  were  destined  to  become  within  the 
next  three  years,  their  names  were  already  sufficiently  well 
known  to  have  made  an  introduction  valuable.  It  would 
not  have  been  difficult  to  obtain  such.  My  father  would  not 
hear  of  it.  '  I  will  not  have  my  sou  indebted  for  anything 
to  a  Jew,'  he  said ;  and  I  am  only  quoting  this  instance  of 
prejudice  to  you  because  it  was  not  an  individual  but  a  typ- 
ical one  among  my  father's  social  equals.  The  remark  about 
'  his  son's  entering  a  profession  in  which  two  Jews  had  car- 
ried off  the  highest  prizes '  is  of  a  much  later  date.  Conse- 
quently we  landed  in  Paris,  provided  with  letters  of  intro- 
duction to  M.  de  Saint-Georges.*  Clever,  accomplished, 
refined  as  was  M.  de  Saint-Georges,  he  was  scarcely  the 
authority  a  father  with  serious  intentions  about  his  son's 
musical  career  would  have  consulted;  he  was  a  charming, 
skilful  librettist  and  dramatist,  a  thorough  man  of  the  world 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  but  absolutely  incapable  of 
judging  the  higher  qualities  of  the  composer.  Nevertheless, 
I  owe  him  much ;  but  for  him  I  should  have  been  dragged 
back  to  Germany  there  and  then ;  but  for  him  I  should  have 
been  compelled  to  go  back  to  Germany  five  years  later,  or 
starved  in  the  streets  of  Paris. 

"My  father's  interview  with  M,  de  Saint-Georges,  and 
my  first  introduction  to  him,"  said  Flotow  on  anotlier  occa- 
sion, "  were  perhaps  the  most  comical  scenes  ever  enacted  off 
the  stage.  You  know  my  old  friend,  and  have  been  to  his 
rooms,  so  I  need  not  describe  him  nor  his  surroundings  to 
you.  You  have  never  seen  my  father ;  but,  to  give  you  an 
idea  of  what  he  was  like,  I  may  tell  you  that  he  was  an  en- 
larged edition  of  myself.     A  bold  rider,  a  soldier  and  a 


*  Jules-Henri  de  Saint-Georges,  one  of  the  most  fertile  librettists  of  the 
time,  the  principal  collaborateur  of  Scribe,  and  best  known  in  England  as  the 
author  of  the  book  of  Balfe's  "  Bohemian  Girl."— Editor. 


VON  FLOTOW'S  FATHER.  77 

sportsman,  fairly  well  educated,  but  upon  the  whole  a  very 
rough  diamond,  and,  I  am  afraid,  with  a  corresponding  con- 
tempt for  the  elegant  and  artistic  side  of  Paris  life.  You 
may,  therefore,  picture  to  yourself  the  difference  between 
the  two  men — M.  de  Saint-Georges  in  a  beautiful  silk  dress- 
ing-gown and  red  morocco  slippers,  sipping  chocolate  from 
a  dainty  porcelain  cup ;  my  father,  who,  contrary  to  German 
custom,  had  always  refused  to  don  that  comfortable  gar- 
ment, and  who,  to  my  knowledge,  had  never  in  his  life  tasted 
chocolate.  For  the  moment  I  thought  that  everything  was 
lost.     I  was  mistaken. 

" '  Monsieur,'  said  my  father  in  French,  which  absolutely 
creaked  with  the  rust  of  age, '  I  have  come  to  ask  your  advice 
and  a  favour  besides.  My  son  desires  to  become  a  musician. 
Is  it  possible  ? ' 

" '  There  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not  be,'  replied  M. 
de  Saint-Georges,  '  provided  he  has  a  vocation.' 

" '  Vocation  may  mean  obstinacy,'  remarked  my  father. 
*  But  let  us  suppose  the  reverse — that  obstinacy  means  voca- 
tion :  how  long  would  it  take  him  to  prove  that  he  has 
talent?' 

" '  It  is  difficult  to  say — five  years  at  least.' 

"  '  And  two  he  has  already  spent  at  the  Conservatoire  will 
make  seven.  I  hope  he  will  not  be  like  Jacob,  who,  after 
that  period  of  waiting,  found  that  they  had  given  him  the 
wrong  goddess ! '  growled  my  father,  who  could  be  grimly 
humorous  when  he  liked.  '  Five  years  more  be  it,  then,  but 
not  a  single  day  longer.  If  by  that  time  he  has  not  made 
his  mark,  I  withdraw  his  allowance.  I  thank  you  for  your 
advice ;  and  now  I  will  ask  a  favour.  Will  you  kindly  supply 
my  place — that  is,  keep  an  eye  upon  him,  and  do  the  best 
you  can  for  him  ?  Remember,  he  is  but  twenty.  It  is  hard 
enough  that  I  cannot  make  a  soldier  of  him ;  from  what  I 
have  heard  and  from  what  I  can  see,  you  will  prevent  him 
from  becoming  less  than  a  gentleman.' 

"  M.  de  Saint-Georges  was  visibly  moved.  '  Let  me  hear 
what  he  can  do,'  he  said, '  and  then  I  will  tell  you.' 

"  I  sat  down  to  the  piano  for  more  than  an  hour. 

" '  I  will  see  that  your  son  becomes  a  good  musician,  M. 
le  Comte,'  said  M.  de  Saint-Georges. 

"  Next  morning  my  father  went  back  to  Germany.  Noth- 
ing would  induce  him  to  stay  a  single  day.  He  said  the 
atmosphere  of  Paris  was  vitiated. 


78  Al?  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  that  M.  de  Saint-Georges  kept  his 
word  as  far  as  he  was  able ;  he  kept  it  even  more  rigorously 
than  my  father  had  bargained  for,  because  Avhen,  exactly  on 
the  last  day  of  the  stipulated  five  years,  I  received  a  letter 
demanding  my  immediate  return,  and  informing  me  that  my 
father's  banker  had  instructions  to  stop  all  further  supplies, 
M.  de  Saint- Georges  bade  me  stay. 

" '  I  promised  to  make  a  musician  of  you,  and  I  have 
kept  my  word.  But  between  a  musician  and  an  acknowl- 
edged musician  there  is  a  difference.  I  say  stay ! '  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  *  How  am  I  to  stay  without  money  ? ' 

" '  You'll  earn  some.' 

"'How?' 

" '  By  giving  piano-lessons,  like  many  a  poor  artist  has 
done  before  you.' 

"  I  followed  his  advice,  and  am  none  the  worse  for  the 
few  years  of  hardships.  The  contrast  between  my  own  pov- 
erty and  my  wealthy  surroundings  was  sufficiently  curious 
during  that  time,  and  never  more  so  than  on  the  night  when 
my  name  really  became  known  to  the  general  public.  I  am 
alluding  to  the  first  performance  of  '  Le  Due  de  Guise,' 
which,  as  you  may  remember,  was  given  in  aid  of  the  dis- 
tressed Poles,  and  sung  throughout  by  amateurs.  The  re- 
ceipts amounted  to  thirty  thousand  francs,  and  the  ladies  of 
the  chorus  had  something  between  ten  and  twelve  millions  of 
francs  of  diamonds  in  their  hair  and  round  their  throats. 
All  my  earthly  possessions  in  money  consisted  of  six  francs 
thirty-five  centimes." 

I  was  not  at  the  Theatre  de  la  Kenaissance  that  night, 
but  two  or  three  years  previously  I  had  heard  the  first  opera 
Elotow  ever  wrote,  at  the  Hotel  Castellane.  I  never  heard 
"  Eob  Eoy  "  since ;  and,  curiously  enough,  many  years  after- 
wards I  inquired  of  Lord  Granville,  who  sat  next  to  me  on 
that  evening  in  1838,  whether  he  had.  He  shook  his  head 
negatively.  "  It  is  a  great  pity,"  he  said,  "  for  the  music  is 
very  beautiful."  And  I  believe  that  Lord  Granville  is  a  very 
good  judge. 

The  Hotel  Castellane,  or  "  La  Maison  du  Mouleur,"  as  it 
was  called  by  the  general  public  on  account  of  the  great 
number  of  scantily  attired  mythological  deities  with  which 
its  fagade  was  decorated,  was  one  of  the  few  houses  where, 
during  the  reign  of  Louis-Philippe,  the  discussion  of  polit- 


SOCIETY  IN  THE  FORTIES.  79 

ical  and  dynastic  differences  was  absolutely  left  in  abeyance. 
The  scent  of  party  strife — I  bad  almost  said  miasma — hung 
over  all  the  other  salons,  notably  those  of  the  Princesse  de 
Lieven,  Madame  Thiers,  and  Madame  de  Girardin,  and  even 
those  of  Madame  Le  Hon  and  Victor  Hugo  were  not  free 
from  it.  Men  like  myself,  and  especially  young  men,  who 
instinctively  guessed  the  hollowness  of  all  this — who,  more- 
over, had  not  the  genius  to  become  political  leaders  and  not 
sufficient  enthusiasm  to  become  followers — avoided  them ; 
consequently  their  description  will  find  little  or  no  place  in 
these  notes.  The  little  I  saw  of  Princesse  de  Lieven  at  the 
Tuilories  and  elsewhere  produced  no  wish  to  see  more. 
Thiers  was  more  interesting  from  a  social  and  artistic  point 
of  view,  but  it  was  only  on  very  rare  occasions  that  he  consent- 
ed to  doff  his  political  armour,  albeit  that  he  did  not  wear 
the  latter  with  unchanging  dignity.  Madame  Thiers  was  an 
uninteresting  woman,  and  only  the  "  feeder  "  to  her  husband, 
to  use  a  theatrical  phrase.  Madame  Le  Hon  was  exceedingly 
beautiful,  exceedingly  selfish,  and,  if  anything,  too  amiable. 
The  absence  of  all  serious  mental  qualities  was  cleverly  dis- 
guised by  the  mask  of  a  grande  dame ;  but  I  doubt  whether 
it  was  anything  else  but  a  mask.  Madame  Delphine  de  Gi- 
rardin, on  the  other  hand,  Avas  endowed  with  uncommon 
literary,  poetical,  and  iutellectual  gifts ;  but  I  have  always 
considered  it  doubtful  whether  even  the  Nine  Muses,  rolled 
into  one,  would  bo  bearable  for  any  length  of  time.  As  for 
Victor  Hugo,  no  man  not  blessed  with  an  extraordinary 
bump  of  veneration  would  have  gone  more  than  once  to  his 
soirees.  The  permanent  entertainment  there  consisted  of  a 
modern  version  of  the  "  perpetual  adoration,"  and  of  nothing 
else,  because,  to  judge  by  my  few  experiences,  his  guests  were 
never  offered  anything  to  eat  or  to  drink.  As  a  set-off,  the 
furniture  and  appointments  of  his  apartments  were  more 
artistic  than  those  of  most  of  his  contemporaries  ;  but  Becky 
Sharp  has  left  it  on  record  that  "  mouton  aux  navets,"  dished 
up  in  priceless  china  and  crested  silver,  is  after  all  but 
"  mouton  aux  navets,"  and  at  Hugo's  even  that  homely  fare 
was  wanting. 

Among  the  few  really  good  salons  were  those  of  the  am- 
bassadors of  the  Two  Sicilies,  of  England,  and  of  Austria. 
The  former  two  Avere  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Honore,  the  lat- 
ter in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain.  The  soirees  of  the  Due 
do  Serra-Cabriola  were  very  animated ;  there  was  a  great  deal 


80  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

of  dancing.  I  cannot  say  the  same  of  those  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Granville,  albeit  that  both  the  host  and  hostess  did  the  honours 
with  charming  and  truly  patrician  grace  and  hospitality. 
But  the  Euglish  guests  would  not  throw  off  their  habitual 
reserve,  and  the  French  in  the  end  imitated  the  manner  of 
the  latter,  in  deference,  probably,  to  Lord  and  Lady  Gran- 
ville, who  were  not  at  all  pleased  at  this  sincerest  form  of 
French  flattery  of  their  countrymen. 

There  was  no  such  restraint  at  Count  Apponyi's,  in  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  the  only  house  where  the  old 
French  noblesse  mustered  in  force.  The  latter  virtually  felt 
themselves  on  their  own  ground,  for  the  host  was  known  to 
have  not  much  sympathy  with  parvenus,  even  titled  ones, 
though  the  titles  had  been  gained  on  the  battle-field.  Had 
he  not  during  the  preceding  reign  ruthlessly  stripped  Soult 
and  Marmont,  and  half  a  dozen  other  dukes  of  the  first  em- 
pire, by  giving  instructions  to  his  servants  to  announce  them 
by  their  family  names  ?  Consequently,  flirtation  a  la  Mari- 
vaux,  courtly  galanterie  a  la  Louis  XV.,  sprightly  and  witty 
conversation,  "  minuetting  "  a  la  Watteau,  was  the  order  of 
the  day  as  well  as  of  the  night  there,  for  the  dejeuner  dan- 
sant  was  a  frequent  feature  of  the  entertainment.  No  one 
was  afraid  of  being  mistaken  for  a  financier  anobli ;  the  only 
one  admitted  on  a  footing  of  intimacy  bore  the  simple  name 
of  Hope.    • 

Nevertheless,  it  must  not  be  thought  that  the  entertain- 
ments, even  at  the  three  embassies,  partook  of  anything  like 
the  splendour  so  noticeable  during  the  second  empire.  The 
refreshments  elsewhere  partook  of  a  simple  character ;  ices 
and  cake,  and  lukewarm  but  by  no  means  strong  tea,  formed 
the  staple  of  them.  Of  course  there  were  exceptions,  such 
as,  for  instance,  at  the  above-named  houses,  and  at  Mrs. 
Tudor's,  Mrs.  Locke's,  and  at  Countess  Lamoyloff's ;  but  the 
era  of  flowing  rivers  of  champagne,  snacks  that  were  like 
banquets,  and  banquets  that  were  not  unlike  orgies,  had  not 
as  yet  dawned.  And,  worse  than  all,  in  a  great  many  salons 
the  era  of  mahogany  and  Utrecht  velvet  was  in  full  swing, 
while  the  era  of  white-and-gold  walls,  which  were  frequently 
neither  white  nor  gold,  was  dying  a  very  lingering  death. 

The  Hotel  Castellane  was  a  welcome  exception  to  this, 
and  politics  were  rigorously  tabooed,  the  reading  of  long- 
winded  poems  was  interdicted.  Politicians  were  simply  re- 
minded that  the  adjacent  Elysee-Bourbon,  or  even  the  Hotel 


AMATEUR  THEATRICALS.  81 

Pontalba,  might  still  contain  sufficiently  lively  ghosts  to  dis- 
cuss such  all-important  matters  with  them  ;  *  poets  who  fan- 
cied they  had  something  to  say  worth  hearing,  were  invited 
to  have  it  said  for  them  from  behind  the  footlights  by  rival 
companies  of  amateurs,  each  of  which  in  many  respects  need 
not  have  feared  comparison  with  the  professional  one  of  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise.  Amateur  theatricals  were,  therefore,  the 
principal  feature  of  the  entertainments  at  the  Hotel  Castel- 
lane  ;  but  there  were  "  off  nights  "  to  the  full  as  brilliant  as 
the  others.  There  was  neither  acting  nor  dancing  on  such 
occasions,  the  latter  amusement  being  rarely  indulged  in,  ex- 
cept at  the  grand  balls  which  often  followed  one  another  in 
rapid  succession. 

I  have  said  rival  companies,  but  only  the  two  permanent 
ones  came  under  that  denomination ;  the  others  Avere  what 
we  should  term  "  scratch  companies,"  got  together  for  one 
or  two  performances  of  a  special  work,  generally  a  musical 
one,  as  in  the  case  of  Flotow's  "  Rob  Roy "  and  "  Alice." 
They  vied  in  talent  with  the  regular  troupes  presided  over 
respectively  by  Madame  Sophie  Gay,  the  mother  of  Madame 
Emile  de  Girardin,  and  the  Duchesse  d'Abrantes.  Each  con- 
fined itself  to  the  interpretation  of  the  works  of  its  manager- 
ess, who  on  such  evening  did  the  honours,  or  of  those  whom 
the  manageress  favoured  with  her  protection.  The  heavens 
might  fall  rather  than  that  an  actor  or  actress  of  Madame 
Gay's  company  should  act  with  Madame  d'Abrantes,  and  vice 
versd.  Seeing  that  neither  manageress  had  introduced  the 
system  of  "  under-studies,"  disappointments  were  frequent, 
for  unless  a  member  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  could  be 
found  to  take  up  the  part  at  a  moment's  notice,  the  perform- 
ance had  necessarily  to  be  postponed,  the  amateurs  refusing 
to  act  with  any  but  the  best.  Such  pretensions  may  at  the 
first  blush  seem  exaggerated  ;  they  were  justified  in  this  in- 
stance, the  amateurs  being  acknowledged  to  be  the  equals  of 
the  professionals  by  every  unbiassed  critic.     In  fact,  several 

*  The  Elysee-Bourbon,  which  was  the  official  residence  of  Louis-Napoleon 
during  his  presidency  of  the  second  republic,  was  almost  untenanted  during 
the  reign  of  Louis- Pliilippe. 

The  Hotel  Pontalba  was  partly  built  on  the  site  of  the  former  mansion  of 
M.  de  Morfontaine,  a  staunch  royalist,  who,  curiously  enough,  had  mamed  the 
daughter  of  Le  Peletier  de  Saint-Fargeau,  the  member  of  the  Convention  who 
had  voted  the  death  of  Louis  XVI.,'and  who  himself  fell  bv  the  hand  of  an 
assassin.  Mdlle.  le  Peletier  Saint-Fargeau  was  called  "  La  FiUe  de  la  Nation." 
— Editor. 


82  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

ladies  among  the  amateurs  "  took  eventually  to  the  stage," 
notably  Mdlles.  Davenay  and  Mdlle.  de  Lagrange.  The  lat- 
ter became  a  very  bright  star  in  the  operatic  firmament, 
though  she  was  hidden  in  the  musical  world  at  large  by  her 
permanent  stay  in  Eussia,  St.  Petersburg  has  ever  been  a 
formidable  competitor  of  Paris  for  securing  the  best  his- 
trionic and  lyrical  talent.  Madame  Arnould-Plessy,  Bressant, 
Dupuis,  and  later  on  M.  Worms,  deserted  their  native  scenes 
for  the  more  remunerative,  though  perhaps  really  less  artistic, 
triumphs  of  the  theatre  Saint- Michel ;  and  when  they  re- 
turned, the  delicate  bloom  that  had  made  their  art  so  de- 
lightful was  virtually  gone.  "  C'etait  de  I'art  Frau9ais  a  la 
sauce  Tartare,"  said  some  one  who  was  no  mean  judge. 

The  Comte  Jules  de  Castellane,  though  fully  equal,  and 
in  many  respects  superior,  in  birth  to  those  who  professed  to 
sneer  at  the  younger  branch  of  the  Bourbons,  declined  to  be 
guided  by  these  opponents  of  the  new  dynasty  in  their  social 
crusade  against  the  adherents  to  the  latter;  consequently 
the  company  was  perhaps  not  always  so  select  as  it  might 
have  been,  and  many  amusing  incidents  and  piquantes  ad- 
ventures were  the  result.  He  put  a  stop  to  these,  however, 
when  he  discovered  that  his  hospitality  was  being  abused, 
and  that  invitations  given  to  strangers,  at  the  request  of 
some  of  his  familiars,  had  been  paid  for  in  kind,  if  not  in 
coin. 

As  a  rule,  though,  the  company  was  far  less  addicted  to 
scandal-mongering  and  causing  scandal  than  similarly  com- 
posed "  sets  "  during  the  subsequent  reign.  They  were  not 
averse  to  playing  practical  jokes,  especially  upon  those  who 
made  themselves  somewhat  too  conspicuous  by  their  eccen- 
tricities. Lord  Brougham,  who  was  an  assiduous  guest  at 
the  Hotel  Castellane  during  his  frequent  visits  to  Paris,  was 
often  selected  as  their  victim.  He,  as  it  were,  provoked  the 
tricks  played  upon  him  by  his  would-be  Don- Juanesque  be- 
haviour, and  by  the  many  opportunities  he  lost  of  holding 
his  tongue — in  French.  He  absolutely  murdered  the  lan- 
guage of  Moliere.  His  worthy  successor  in  that  respect  was 
Lady  Normanby,  who,  as  some  one  said,  "  not  only  murdered 
the  tongue,  but  tortured  it  besides."  The  latter,  however, 
never  lost  her  dignity  amidst  the  most  mirth-compelling 
blunders  on  her  part,  while  the  English  statesman  was  often 
very  near  enacting  the  buffoon,  and  was  once  almost  in- 
duced to  accept  a  role  in  a  vaudeville,  in  which  his  execrable 


M.  DE  SAINT-GEORGES.  ^  83 

French  would  no  doubt  have  been  highly  diverting  to  the 
audience,  but  would  scarcely  have  been  in  keeping  with  the 
position  he  occupied  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel. 
"  Quant  a  Lord  Brougham,"  said  a  very  witty  Frenchman, 
quoting  Shakespeare  in  French,  "  il  n'y  a  pour  lui  qu'un  pas 
entre  le  sublime  et  le  ridicule.  C'est  le  pas  de  Calais,  et  il  le 
traverse  trop  souvent." 

In  1842,  when  the  Comte  Jules  de  Castellane  married 
Mdlle.  de  Villontroys,  whose  mother  had  married  General 
Kapp  and  been  divorced  from  him,  a  certain  change  came 
over  the  spirit  of  the  house ;  the  entertainments  were  as 
brilliant  as  ever,  but  the  two  rival  manageresses  had  to  abdi- 
cate their  sway,  and  the  social  status  of  the  guests  was  sub- 
jected to  a  severer  test.  The  new  dispensation  did  not  ostra- 
cize the  purely  artistic  element,  but,  as  the  comtesse  tersely 
put  it,  " dorenavant,  je  ne  recevrai  que  ceux  qui  ontde  Part 
ou  des  armoiries."  She  strictly  kept  her  word,  even  during 
the  first  years  of  the  Second  Empire,  when  pedigrees  were  a 
ticklish  thing  to  inquire  into. 

I  have  unwittingly  drifted  away  from  M.  de  Saint- 
Georges,  who,  to  say  the  least,  was  a  curious  figure  in 
artistic  and  literary  Paris  during  the  reigns  of  Louis-Phi- 
lippe and  his  successor.  He  was  quite  as  fertile  as  Scribe, 
and  many  of  his  plots  are  as  ingeniously  conceived  and 
worked  out  as  the  latter's,  but  he  suffered  both  in  reputa- 
tion and  purse  from  the  restless  activity  and  pushing  char- 
acter of  the  librettist  of  "  Robert  le  Diable."  Like  those  of 
Eivarol,*  M.  Saint-Georges'  claims  to  be  of  noble  descent 
were  somewhat  contested,  albeit  that,  unlike  the  eighteenth- 
century  pamphleteer,  he  never  obtruded  them ;  but  there 
could  be  no  doubt  about  his  being  a  gentleman.  He  was 
utterly  different  in  every  respect  from  his  rival.  Scribe  was 
not  only  eaten  up  with  vanity,  but  grasping  to  a  degree ;  he 
had  dramatic  instinct,  but  not  the  least  vestige  of  literary 
refinement.  M.  de  Saint- Georges,  on  the  contrary,  was  ex- 
ceedingly modest,  very  indifferent  to  money  matters,  chari- 
table and  obliging  in  a  quiet  way,  and  though  perhaps  not 
inferior  in  stage-craft,  very  elegant  in  his  diction.  When 
he  liked,  he  could  write  verses  and  dialogue  which  often 
reminded  one  of  Moliere.  It  was  not  the  only  trait  he  had 
in  common  with  the  great  playwright.      Moliere  is  said  to 

*  One  of  the  great  wits  of  the  Kevolution. — Editok. 


84  %         AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

have  consulted  his  housekeeper,  Lafor^t,  with  regard  to  his 
productions;  M.  de  Saint-Georges  was  known  to  do  the 
same — with  this  difference,  however,  that  he  did  not  always 
attend  to  Marguerite's  suggestions,  in  which  case  Marguerite 
grew  wroth,  especially  if  the  piece  turned  out  to  be  a  success, 
in  spite  of  her  predictions  of  failure.  On  such  occasions  the 
popular  approval  scarcely  compensated  M.  de  Saint-Georges 
for  his  discomforts  at  home  ;  for  though  Marguerite  was  an 
admirable  manager  at  all  times — when  she  liked,  though 
there  was  no  bachelor  more  carefully  looked  after  than  the 
author  of  "  La  Fille  du  Regiment,"  he  had  now  and  then  to 
bear  the  brunt  of  Marguerite's  temper  when  the  public's 
verdict  did  not  agree  with  hers. 

If  under  such  circumstances  M.  de  Saint-Georges  ventured 
to  give  a  dinner,  the  viands  were  sure  to  be  cold,  the  Bor- 
deaux iced,  and  the  champagne  lukewarm.  M.  de  Saint- 
Georges,  who,  notwithstanding  his  courtly  manners,  was  can- 
dour itself,  never  failed  to  state  the  reasons  of  his  discomfiture 
as  a  host  to  his  guests.  "  Que  voulez  vous,  mes  amis,  la  piece 
n'a  pas  plu  a  Marguerite  et  le  diner  s'en  ressent.  Si  je  lui 
faisais  une  observation,  elle  me  repondrait  comme  elle  m'a 
repondu  deja  maintes  fois.  Le  diner  etait  mauvais,  vous 
dites?  C'est  possible,  il  etait  assez  bien  pour  ceux  qui  ont 
eu  le  bon  gout  d'applaudir  votre  piece  hier-au-soir."  Because 
Mdlle.  Marguerite  had  a  seat  in  the  upper  boxes  reserved  for 
her  at  all  the  first  representations  of  her  master's  pieces.  She 
did  not  always  avail  herself  of  the  privilege  at  the  Opera,  but 
she  never  missed  a  first  night  at  the  Opera-Comique.  I  have 
quoted  textually  the  words  of  M.  de  Saint-Georges  on  the 
morrow  of  the  premiere  of  "  Giselle,"  a  ballet  in  two  acts, 
written  in  collaboration  with  Theophile  Gautier.  " '  Giselle ' 
had  been  a  great  success ;  Marguerite  had  predicted  a  failure ; 
hence  we  had  a  remarkably  bad  dinner." 

I  had  had  many  opportunities  of  seeing  Marguerite, 
and  often  wondered  at  the  secret  of  the  tyranny  she  exer- 
cised. She  was  not  handsome — scarcely  comely;  she  was 
not  even  as  smart  in  her  appearance  as  dozens  of  servants  I 
have  seen,  and  her  mental  attainments,  as  far  as  I  could 
judge,  were  not  above  those  of  her  own  class.  One  can  un- 
derstand a  Turner,  a  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  submitting  to 
the  influence  of  such  a  low-born  companion,  because,  after 
all,  they,  though  men  of  genius,  sprang  from  the  people,  and 
may  have  felt  awkward,  ill  at  ease,  in  the  society  of  well-bred 


AN  IMPARTIAL  CRITIC.  85 

men  and  women,  especially  of  women.  Beranger  sometimes 
gave  me  tliat  idea.  But,  as  I  have  already  said,  no  one  could 
mistake  M.  de  Saint-Georges  for  anything  but  a  well-bred 
man.  Notwithstanding  his  little  affectations,  his  inordinate 
love  of  scents,  his  somewhat  effeminate  surroundings,  good 
breeding  was  patent  at  every  sentence,  at  every  movement. 
Ho  was  not  a  genius,  certainly  not,  but  the  above  remarks 
hold  good  of  a  man  who  luas  a  genius,  and  who  sprang, 
moreover,  from  the  higher  bourgeoisie  of  the  eighteenth  cent- 
ury— I  am  alluding  to  Eugene  Delacroix. 


86  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Boulevards  in  the  forties — The  Chinese  Baths — A  favourite  tobacconist  of 
Alfred  de  Musset — The  price  of  cigars — The  diligence  still  the  usual  mode 
of  travelling — Provincials  in  Paris — Parliamentary  see-saw  between  M. 
Thiers  and  M.  Guizot — Amenities  of  editors — An  advocate  of  universal 
suffrage — Distribution  of  gratuitous  sausages  to  the  working  man  on  the 
king's  birthday — The  rendezvous  of  actons  in  search  of  an  engagement — 
Frederick  Lemaitre  on  the  eve  of  appearing  in  a  new  part — The  Legitimists 
begin  to  leave  their  seclusion  and  to  mingle  with  the  bourgeoisie — Alex- 
andre Dumas  and  Scribe — The  latter's  fertility  as  a  playwright — The 
National  Guards  go  shooting,  in  uniform  and  in  companies,  on  the  Plaine 
Saint-Denis — Vidocq's  private  inquiry  office  in  the  Kue  Vivienne — No 
river-side  resorts — The  pltuster  elephant  on  the  Place  de  la  Bastille — The 
sentimental  romances  of  Loiisa  Paget — The  songs  of  the  working  classes — 
Cheap  bread  and  wine — How  they  enjoyed  themselves  on  Sundays  and 
holidays — Theophile   Gautier's  pony-carriage — The  hatred   of  the  bour- 

feoisie — Nestor  Roqueplan's  expression  of  it — Gavarni's — M.  Thiers'  sister 
eeps  a  restaurant  at  the  corner  of  the  Eue  Drouot — Wlien  he  is  in  power, 
the  members  of  the  Opposition  go  and  dine  there,  and  publish  facetious 
accounts  of  the  entertainment — All  appearances  to  the  contrary,  people 
like  Guizot  better  than  Thiers — But  few  entries  for  the  race  for  wealth  in 
those  days — The  Eothschilds  still  live  in  the  line  Lalitte — Favourite 
lounges — Tlie  Boulevai'ds,  the  Eue  Le  Peletier,  and  the  Passage  de  I'Opera 
— The  Opera — The  Rue  Lc  Peletier  and  its  attractions — The  Eestaurant  of 
Paolo  Broggi — The  Estaminet  du  Divan — Literary  waitei-s  and  Boniface — 
Major  Fraser — The  mystery  surrounding  his  origin — Another  mysterious 
personage — The  Passage  de  I'Opera  is  invaded  by  the  stockjobbers,  and 
loses  its  prestige  as  a  promenade — Bernard  Latte's,  the  publisher  of  Doni- 
zetti's operas,  becomes  deserted — Tortoni's — Louis-Blanc — His  scruples  as 
an  editor — A  few  words  about  duelling — Two  traific  meetings — Lola  Montes 
— Her  adventurous  career — A  celebrated  trial — My  first  meeting  with  Gus- 
tave  Flaubert,  the  author  of  "  Madame  Bovary  "  and  "  Salambo  " — Emile 
de  Girardin — His  opinion  of  duelling — My  decision  with  regard  to  it — The 
original  of  " La  Dame  aux  Camillas" — Her  parentage — Alexandre  Dumas 

fives  the  diagnosis  of  her  character  in  connection  with  his  son's  play — 
I'Homme  au  Camellia — M.  Lautour-Mezerai,  the  inventor  of  children's 
periodical  literature  in  France — Auguste  Lireux — He  takes  the  manage- 
ment of  the  Odeon — Balzac  again — His  schemes,  his  greed — Lireux  more 
fortunate  with  other  authora — Anglophobia  on  the  French  stage — Gallo- 
phobia on  the  English  stage. 

Even  in  those  days  "  the  Boulevards  "  meant  to  most  of 
us  nothing  more  than  the  space  between  the  present  opera 
and  the  Rue  Drouot.  But  the  Credit  Lyonnais  and  other 
palatial  buildings  which  have  been  erected  since  were  not  as 
much  as  dreamt  of ;  if  I  remember  rightly,  the  site  of  that 


PARIS  IN  THE  FORTIES.  87 

bank  was  occupied  by  two  or  three  "  Chinese  Baths."  I  sup- 
pose the  process  of  steaming  and  cleansing  the  human  body 
was  something  analogous  to  that  practised  in  our  Turkish 
baths,  but  I  am  unable  to  say  from  experience,  having  never 
been  inside,  and,  curious  to  relate,  most  of  my  familiars  were 
in  a  similar  state  of  ignorance.  We  rarely  crossed  to  that 
side  of  the  boulevard  except  to  go  and  dine  at  the  Cafe  An- 
glais. At  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Lalitte,  opposite  the  Maison 
d'Or,  was  our  favourite  tobacconist's,  and  the  cigars  we  used 
to  get  there  were  vastly  superior  to  those  Ave  get  at  present  in 
Paris  at  five  times  the  cost.  The  assistant  who  served  us  was 
a  splendid  creature.  Alfred  de  Musset  became  so  enamoured 
of  her  that  at  one  time  his  familiars  apprehended  an  "  im- 
prudence on  his  part."  Of  course,  they  were  afraid  he  would 
marry  her. 

In  those  days  most  of  our  journeys  in  the  interior  of 
France  had  still  to  be  made  by  the  mails  of  Lafitte-Caillard, 
and  the  people  these  conveyances  brought  up  from  the  prov- 
inces were  almost  as  great  objects  of  curiosity  to  us  as  we 
must  have  been  to  them.  It  was  the  third  lustre  of  Louis- 
Philippe's  reign.  "  God,"  according  to  the  coinage,  "  pro- 
tected France,"  and  when  the  Almighty  seemed  somewhat 
tired  of  the  task,  Thiers  and  Guizot  alternately  stepped  in  to 
do  the  safeguarding.  Parliament  resounded  with  the  elo- 
quence of  orators  Avho  are  almost  forgotten  by  now,  except  by 
students  of  history ;  M.  de  Genoude  was  clamouring  for  uni- 
versal suffrage;  M.  de  Cormenin,  under  the  nom  deplume  of 
"  Timon,"  was  the  fashionable  pamphleteer ;  the  papers  in- 
dulged in  vituperation  against  one  another,  compared  to 
which  the  amenities  of  the  rival  Eatanswill  editors  were  com- 
pliments. Grocers  and  drapers  objected  to  the  participation 
of  M.  de  Lamartine  in  the  affairs  of  State.  The  Figaro  of 
those  days  went  by  the  title  of  Cor saire- Satan,  and,  though 
extensively  read,  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  making  both 
ends  meet.  In  order  to  improve  the  lot  of  the  working  man, 
there  was  a  gratuitous  distribution  of  sausages  once  a  year  on 
the  king's  fete-day.  The  ordinary  rendezvous  of  provincial 
and  metropolitan  actors  out  of  an  engagement  was  not  at  the 
Cafe  de  Suede  on  the  Boulevard  Montmartre,  but  under  the 
trees  at  the  Palais- Royal.  Frederick  Lemaitre  went  to  con- 
fession and  to  mass  every  time  he  "  created  "  a  new  role.  The 
Legitimists  consented  to  leave  their  aristocratic  seclusion,  and 
to  breathe  the  same  air  with  the  bourgeoisie  and  proletarians 


88  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

of  the  Boulevard  du  Crime,  to  see  him  play.  The  Govern- 
ment altered  the  title  of  Sue  and  Goubeaux's  drama  "  Les 
Pontons  Anglais  "  into  "  Les  Pontons,"  short,  and  made  the 
authors  change  the  scene  from  England  to  Spain.  Alexandre 
Dumas  chaflfed  Scribe,  and  flung  his  money  right  and  left ; 
while  the  other  saved  it,  bought  country  estates,  and  produced 
as  many  as  twenty  plays  a  year  (eight  more  than  he  had  con- 
tracted for).  The  National  Guards  went  in  uniform  and  in 
companies  to  shoot  hares  and  rabbits  on  the  Plaine  Saint- 
Denis,  and  swaggered  about  on  the  Boulevards,  ogling  the 
women.  Vidocq  kept  a  private  inquiry  office  in  the  Passage 
Vivienne,  and  made  more  money  by  blackmailing  or  catch- 
ing unfaithful  husbands  than  by  catching  thieves.  Bougival, 
Asnieres  and  Joinville-le-Pont  had  not  become  riparian  re- 
sorts. The  plaster  elephant  on  the  Place  de  la  Bastille  was 
crumbling  to  pieces.  The  sentimental  romances  of  Madame 
Loisa  Puget  proved  the  delight  of  every  bourgeoise  family, 
while  the  chorus  to  every  popular  song  was  "  Larifla,  larifla, 
fia,  fla,  fla." 

Best  of  all,  from  the  working  man's  point  of  view,  was 
the  low  price  of  bread  and  Avine ;  the  latter  could  be  had  at 
four  sous  the  litre  in  the  wine-shops.  He,  the  working  man, 
still  made  excursions  with  his  wife  and  children  to  the  Arte- 
sian well  at  Grenelle;  and  if  stranded  perchance  in  the 
Champs-Elysees,  stood  lost  in  admiration  at  the  tiny  carriage 
with  ponies  to  match,  driven  by  Theophile  Gautier,  who  had 
left  off  wearing  the  crimson  waistcoats  wherewith  in  former 
days  he  hoped  to  annoy  the  bourgeois,  though  he  ceased  not 
to  rail  at  him  by  word  of  mouth  and  with  his  pen.  He  was 
not  singular  in  that  respect.  Among  his  set,  the  hatred  of 
the  bourgeois  was  ingrained ;  it  found  constant  vent  in  small 
things.  Nestor  Roqueplan  wore  jackboots  at  home  instead 
of  slippers,  because  the  latter  chaussure  was  preferred  by  the 
shopkeeper.  Gavarni  published  the  most  biting  pictorial 
satires  against  him.  Here  is  one.  A  dissipated-looking  loaf- 
er is  leaning  against  a  lamp-post,  contemptuously  staring  at 
the  spruce,  trim  bourgeois  out  for  his  Sunday  walk  with  his 
wife.  The  loafer  is  smoking  a  short  clay  pipe,  and  some  of 
the  fumes  of  the  tobacco  come  between  the  wind  and  the 
bourgeois'  respectability.  "  Voyou ! "  says  the  latter  con- 
temptuously. "Voyou  tant  que  vous  voulez,  pas  Spicier,"  is 
the  answer. 

In  those  days,  when  M.  Thiers  happened  to  be  in  power, 


A  LITERARY  CAFE.  89 

many  members  of  the  Opposition  and  their  journalistic  cham- 
pions made  it  a  point  of  organizing  little  gatherings  to  the 
table-d'hote  kept  by  Mdlle.  Thiers,  the  sister  of  the  Prime 
Minister  of  France.  Her  establishment  was  at  the  entrance 
of  the  present  Rue  Drouot,  and  a  sign-board  informed  the 
passer-by  to  that  effect.  There  was  invariably  an  account  of 
these  little  gatherings  in  next  day's  papers — of  course,  with 
comments.  Thiers  was  known  to  be  the  most  wretched  shot 
that  ever  worried  a  gamekeeper,  and  yet  he  was  very  fond  of 
blazing  away.  "  We  asked  Mdlle.  Thiers,"  wrote  the  com- 
mentators, "  whether  those  delicious  pheasants  she  gave  us 
were  of  her  illustrious  brother's  bagging.  The  lady  shook 
her  head.  '  Non,  monsieur ;  le  President  du  Conseil  n'a  pas 
I'honneur  de  fournir  mon  etablissement ;  a  quoi  bon,  je 
peux  les  acheter  a  meilleur  marche  que  lui  et  au  memo  en- 
droit.  S'il  m'en  envoyait,  il  me  ferait  payer  un  benefice, 
parcequ'il  ne  fait  jamais  rien  pour  rien.  C'est  un  peu  le  de- 
faut  de  notre  famille.' "  I  have  got  a  notion  that,  mercurial 
as  was  M.  Thiers  up  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life,  and  even 
more  so  at  that  period,  and  sedate  as  was  M.  Guizot,  the 
French  liked  the  latter  better  than  the  former. 

M.  Guizot  had  said,  "  Enrichissez  vous,"  and  was  known 
to  be  poor ;  M.  Thiers  had  scoffed  at  the  advice,  and  was 
known  to  be  hoarding  while  compelling  his  sister  to  earn  her 
own  living.  It  must  be  remembered  that  at  the  time  the 
gangrene  of  greed  had  not  entered  the  souls  of  all  classes  of 
Frenchmen  so  deeply  as  it  has  now,  that  the  race  for  wealth 
had  as  yet  comparatively  few  votaries,  and  that  not  every 
stockjobber  and  speculator  aspired  to  emulate  the  vast  finan- 
cial transactions  of  the  Rothschilds.  The  latter  lived,  in 
those  days,  in  the  Rue  Lafitte,  where  they  had  three  separate 
mansions,  all  of  which  since  then  have  been  thrown  into  one, 
and  are  at  present  exclusively  devoted  to  business  purposes. 
The  Rue  Lafitte  was,  however,  a  comparatively  quiet  street. 
The  favourite  lounges,  in  addition  to  the  strip  of  Boulevards 
I  have  already  mentioned,  were  the  Rue  Le  Peletier  and  the 
galleries  of  the  Passage  de  I'Opera.  Both  owed  the  prefer- 
ence over  the  other  thoroughfares  to  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  the  Opera,  which  had  its  frontage  in  the  last-named  street, 
but  was  by  no  means  striking  or  monumental.  Its  archi- 
tect, Debret,  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  every  kind  of  satire 
for  many  a  year  after  its  erection ;  the  bitterest  and  most 
scathing  of  all  was  that,  perhaps,  of  a  journalist,  who  wrote 


90  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

one  day  that,  a  provincial  having  asked  him  the  way  to  the 
grand  opera,  he  had  been  obliged  to  answer,  "  Turn  down 
the  street,  and  it  is  the  first  large  gateway  on  your  right." 

But  if  the  building  itself  was  unimposing,  the  company 
gathered  around  its  entrance  consisted  generally  of  half  a 
dozen  men  whose  names  were  then  already  household  words 
in  the  musical  world — Auber,  Halevy,  Rossini  and  Meyer- 
beer, St.  Georges,  Adam.  Now  and  then,  though  rarely  to- 
gether, all  of  these  names  will  frequently  reappear  in  these 
notes.  The  chief  attractions,  though,  of  the  Rue  Le  Peletier 
were  the  famous  Italian  restaurant  of  Paolo  Broggi,  patron- 
ized by  a  great  many  singers,  the  favourite  haunt  of  Mario, 
in  the  beginning  of  his  career,  and  I'Estaminet  du  Divan, 
which  from  being  a  very  simple  cafe  indeed,  developed  into 
a  kind  of  politico-literary  club  under  the  auspices  of  a  num- 
ber of  budding  men  of  letters,  journalists,  and  the  like,  whose 
modest  purses  were  not  equal  to  the  charges  of  the  Cafe 
Riche  and  Tortoni,  and  who  had  gradually  driven  all  more 
prosaic  customers  away.  I  believe  I  was  one  of  the  few  ha- 
bitues who  had  no  literary  aspirations,  who  did  not  cast  long- 
ing looks  to  the  inner  portals  of  the  offices  of  the  National^ 
the  bigwigs  of  which — Armand  Marrast,  Baron  Domes, 
Gerard  de  Nerval,  and  others — sometimes  made  their  appear- 
ance there,  though  their  restaurant  in  ordinary  was  the  Cafe 
Hardi.  The  Estaminet  du  Divan,  however,  pretended  to  a 
much  more  literary  atmosphere  than  the  magnificent  estab- 
lishment on  the  boulevard  itself.  It  is  a  positive  fact  that 
the  waiters  in  the  former  would  ask,  in  the  most  respectful 
way  imaginable,  "  Does  monsieur  want  Sue's  or  Dumas'  feu- 
illeton  with  his  cafe  ?  "  Not  once  but  a  dozen  times  I  have 
heard  the  proprietor  draw  attention  to  a  remarkable  article. 
Major  Fraser,  though  he  never  dined  there,  spent  an  hour  or 
two  daily  in  the  Estaminet  du  Divan  to  read  the  papers.  He 
was  a  great  favourite  with  every  one,  though  none  of  us  knew 
anything  about  his  antecedents.  In  spite  of  his  English 
name,  he  was  decidedly  not  English,  though  he  spoke  the 
language.  He  was  one  of  the  best-dressed  men  of  the  pe- 
riod, and  by  a  well-dressed  man  I  do  not  mean  one  like  Sue. 
He  generally  wore  a  tight-fitting,  short-skirted,  blue  frock- 
coat,  grey  trousers,  of  a  shape  which  since  then  we  have  de- 
fined as  "  pegtops,"  but  the  fashion  of  Avhich  was  borrowed 
from  the  Cossacks.  They  are  still  worn  by  some  French 
officers  in  cavalry  regiments,  notably  crack  cavalry  regiments. 


MAJOR  PHASER.  9t 

Major  Fraser  might  have  fitly  borrowed  Piron's  epitaph 
for  himself :  "  Je  ne  suis  rien,  pas  meme  Academicien."  He 
was  a  bachelor.  He  uever  alluded  to  his  parentage.  He 
lived  by  himself,  in  an  entresol  at  the  corner  of  the  Kue  La- 
fitte  and  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens.  He  was  always  flush  of 
money,  though  the  sources  of  his  income  were  a  mystery  to 
every  one.  He  certainly  did  not  live  by  gambling,  as  has 
been  suggested  since ;  for  those  who  knew  him  best  did  not 
remember  having  seen  him  touch  a  card. 

I  have  always  had  an  idea,  though  I  can  give  no  reason 
for  it,  that  Major  Eraser  was  the  illegitimate  son  of  some  ex- 
alted personage,  and  that  the  solution  of  the  mystery  sur- 
rounding him  might  be  found  in  the  records  of  the  scandals 
and  intrigues  at  the  courts  of  Charles  IV.  and  Ferdinand 
VII.  of  Spain.  The  foreign  "  soldiers  of  fortune  "  who  rose 
to  high  posts,  though  not  to  the  highest  like  Eichards  and 
O'Reilly,  were  not  all  of  Irish  origin.  But  the  man  himself 
was  so  pleasant  in  his  intercourse,  so  uniformly  gentle  and 
ready  to  oblige,  that  no  one  cared  to  lift  a  veil  which  he  was 
so  evidently  anxious  not  to  have  disturbed.  I  only  remem- 
ber his  getting  out  of  temper  once,  namely,  when  Leon  Goz- 
lan,  in  a  comedy  of  his,  introduced  a  major  who  had  three 
crosses.  The  first  had  been  given  to  him  because  he  had  not 
one,  the  second  because  he  had  already  one,  and  the  third 
because  all  good  things  consist  of  three.  Then  Major  Fraser 
sent  his  seconds  to  the  playwright;  the  former  effected  a 
reconciliation,  the  more  that  Gozlan  pledged  his  word  that 
an  allusion  to  the  major  was  farthest  from  his  thoughts.  It 
afterwards  leaked  out  that  our  irrepressible  Alexandre 
Dumas  had  been  the  involuntary  cause  of  all  the  mischief. 
One  day,  while  he  was  talking  to  Gozlan,  one  of  his  secre- 
taries came  in  and  told  him  that  a  particular  bugbear  of  his, 
and  a  great  nonentity  to  boot,  had  got  the  Cross  of  the 
Legion  of  Honour. 

"  Grand  Dieu,"  exclaimed  Gozlan,  "  pourquoi  lui  a-t-on 
donne  cette  croix  ?  '-^ 

"  Vous  ne  savez  pas  ?  "  said  Alexandre,  looking  very  wise, 
as  if  he  had  some  important  state  secret  to  reveal. 

"  Assurement,  je  ne  le  sais  pas,"  quoth  Gozlan,  "  ni  vous 
non  plus." 

"  Ah,  par  exemple,  moi,  je  le  sais." 

"  He  bien,  dites  alors." 

"  On  lui  a  donne  la  croix  parceque  il  n'en  avait  pas." 


92  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

If  was  th«  most  childish  of  all  tricks,  but  Gozlan  laughed 
at  it,  and,  when  he  wrote  his  piece,  remembered  it.  He 
amplified  the  very  small  joke,  and,  on  the  first  night  of  his 
play,  the  house  went  into  convulsions  over  it. 

Major  Fraser's  kindness  and  gentleness  extended  to  all 
men — except  to  professional  politicians,  and  those,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  he  detested  and  despised.  He  rarely 
spoke  on  the  subject  of  politics,  but  when  he  did  every  one 
sat  listening  with  the  raptest  attention ;  for  he  was  a  perfect 
mine  of  facts,  which  he  marshalled  with  consummate  ability 
in  order  to  show  that  government  by  party  was  of  all  idiotic 
institutions  the  most  idiotic.  But  his  knowledge  of  political 
history  was  as  nothing  to  his  familiarity  with  the  social  in- 
stitutions of  every  civilized  country  and  of  every  period. 
Curiously  enough,  the  whole  of  his  library  in  his  own  apart- 
ment did  not  exceed  two  or  three  scores  of  volumes.  His 
memory  was  something  prodigious,  and  even  men  like 
Dumas  and  Balzac  confessed  themselves  his  inferiors  in  that 
respect.  The  mere  mention  of  the  most  trifling  subject 
sufficed  to  set  it  in  motion,  and  the  listeners  were  treated  to 
a  "  magazine  article  worth  fifty  centimes  la  ligne  au  moins," 
as  Dumas  put  it.  But  the  major  could  never  be  induced  to 
write  one.  Strange  to  say,  he  often  used  to  hint  that  his 
was  no  mere  book-knowledge.  "  Of  course,  it  is  perfectly 
ridiculous,"  he  remarked  with  a  strange  smile,  "  but  every 
now  and  again  I  feel  as  if  all  this  did  not  come  to  me  through 
reading,  but  from  personal  experience.  At  times  I  become 
almost  convinced  that  I  lived  with  Nero,  that  I  knew  Dante 
personally,  and  so  forth." 

When  Major  Fraser  died,  not  a  single  letter  was  found  in 
his  apartment  giving  a  clue  to  his  antecedents.  Merely  a  file 
of  receipts,  and  a  scrap  of  paper  attached  to  one — the  receipt 
of  the  funeral  company  for  his  grave,  and  expenses  of  his 
burial.  The  memorandum  gave  instructions  to  advertise  his 
demise  for  a  week  in  the  Journal  des  Debdts,  the  money  for 
which  would  be  found  in  the  drawer  of -his  dressing-table. 
His  clothes  and  furniture  were  to  be  sold,  and  the  proceeds 
to  be  given  to  the  Paris  poor.  "  I  do  not  charge  any  one  with 
this  particular  duty,"  the  document  went  on  ;  "  I  have  so 
many  friends,  every  one  of  whom  will  be  ready  to  carry  out 
my  last  wishes." 

Another  "  mystery,"  though  far  less  interesting  than  Ma- 
jor Fraser,  was  the  Persian  gentleman  whom  one  met  every- 


LOUIS  BLANC.  93 

where,  at  the  Opera,  at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  at  the  concerts 
of  the  Conservatoire,  etc.  Though  invariably  polite  and 
smiling,  he  never  spoke  to  any  one.  For  ten  years,  the  occu- 
pant of  the  stall  next  to  his  at  the  Opera  had  never  heard 
him  utter  a  syllable.  He  always  wore  a  long  white  silk  petti- 
coat, a  splendidly  embroidered  coat  over  that,  and  a  conical 
Astrakan  cap.  He  was  always  alone  ;  and  though  every  one 
knew  where  he  lived,  in  the  Passage  de  I'Opera,  no  one  had 
ever  set  foot  in  his  apartment.  As  a  matter  of  course,  all 
sorts  of  legends  i\'ere  current  about  him.  According  to  some, 
he  had  occupied  a  high  position  in  his  own  country,  from 
which  he  had  voluntarily  exiled  himself,  owing  to  his  detesta- 
tion of  Eastern  habits ;  according  to  others,  he  was  simply  a 
dealer  in  Indian  shawls,  who  had  made  a  fortune.  A  third 
group,  the  spiteful  ones,  maintained  that  he  sold  dates  and 
pastilles,  and  that  the  reason  why  he  did  not  speak  was  be- 
cause he  was  dumb,  though  not  deaf.  He  died  during  the 
Second  Empire,  very  much  respected  in  the  neighbourhood, 
for  he  had  been  very  charitable. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  forties  the  Passage  de  I'Opera 
began  to  lose  some  of  its  prestige  as  a  lounge.  The  outside 
stockjobbers,  whom  the  police  had  driven  from  the  Boule- 
vards and  the  steps  of  Tortoni,  migrated  thither,  and  the 
galleries  that  had  resounded  with  the  sweet  warblings — in  a 
very  low  key — of  the  clients  of  Bernard  Latte,  the  publisher 
of  Donizetti's  operas,  were  made  hideous  and  unbearable  with 
the  jostling  and  bellowing  of  the  money-spinners.  Bernard 
Latte  himself  was  at  last  compelled  to  migrate. 

In  the  house  the  ground-floor  of  which  was  occupied  by 
Tortoni,  and  which  was  far  different  in  aspect  from  what  it 
is  now,  lived  Louis  Blanc.  Toward  nine  in  the  morning  he 
came  down  for  his  cup  of  cafe  au  lait.  It  was  the  first  cup 
of  coffee  of  the  day  served  in  the  establishment.  I  was  never 
on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Blanc,  and  least  of  all  then,  for  I 
shared  with  Major  Eraser  a  dislike  to  politic-mongers,  and, 
rightly  or  wrongly,  I  have  always  considered  the  author  of 
"  L'Histoire  de  Dix  Ans  "  as  such.  Though  Louis  Blanc  was 
three  or  four  and  thirty  then,  he  looked  like  a  boy  of  seven- 
teen— a  fact  not  altogether  owing  to  his  diminutive  stature, 
though  he  was  one  of  the  smallest  men,  if  not  the  smallest 
man,  I  ever  saw.  Of  course  I  mean  a  man  not  absolutely  a 
dwarf.  I  have  been  assured,  however,  that  he  was  a  giant 
compared  to  Don  Martinoz  Garay,  Duke  of  Altamira,  and 


94  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Marquis  of  Astorga,  a  Spanish  statesman,  who  died  about  the 
early  part  of  the  twenties.  These  notes  do  not  extend  be- 
yond the  fall  of  the  Commune,  and  it  was  only  after  that 
event  that  I  met  M.  Blanc  once  or  twice  in  his  old  haunts. 
Hence  my  few  recollections  of  him  had  better  be  jotted  down 
here.  They  are  not  important.  The  man,  though  but  sixty, 
and  apparently  not  in  bad  health,  looked  desillusione.  They 
were,  no  doubt,  the  most  trying  years  to  the  Third  Kepublic, 
but  M.  Blanc  must  have  perceived  well  enough  that,  grant- 
ing all  the  existing  difficulties,  the  men  at  the  head  of  affairs 
were  not  the  Eepublicans  of  his  dreams.  He  had,  moreover, 
suffered  severe  losses ;  all  his  important  documents,  such  as 
the  correspondence  between  him  and  George  Sand  and  Louis- 
Napoleon  while  the  latter  was  at  Ham,  and  other  equally 
valuable  matter,  had  been  destroyed  at  the  fire  of  the  North- 
ern Goods  Station  at  La  Villette,  a  fire  kindled  by  the  Com- 
munists. He  was  dressed  almost  in  the  fashion  of  the  for- 
ties, a  wide-skirted,  long,  brown  frockcoat,  a  shirt  innocent 
of  starch,  and  a  broad-brimmed  hat.  A  few  years  later,  he 
founded  a  paper,  U Homme- Libre,  the  offices  of  which  were 
in  the  Rue  Grange-Bateliere.  The  concern  was  financed  by 
a  Polish  gentleman.  Blanc  gave  his  readers  to  understand 
that  he  would  speak  out  plainly  about  persons  and  things, 
whether  past  or  present ;  that  he  would  advance  nothing  ex- 
cept on  documentary  proofs;  but  that,  whether  he  did  or 
not,  he  would  not  be  badgered  into  giving  or  accepting  chal- 
lenges in  defence  of  his  writings.  "  I  am,  first  of  all,  too 
old,"  he  said ;  "  but  if  I  were  young  again,  I  should  not  re- 
peat my  folly  of  '47,  when  I  wanted  to  fight  with  Eugene 
Pelletan  on  account  of  a  Avoman  whose  virtue,  provided  she 
had  any,  could  make  no  difference  to  either  of  us.  It  does 
not  matter  to  me  that  we  were  not  the  only  preux  chevaliers 
of  that  period,  ready  to  do  battle  for  or  against  the  charms  of 
a  woman  whose  remains  had  crumbled  to  dust  by  then."  * 


*  M.  Eugene  Pelletan,  the  father  of  M.  Camille  Pelletan,  the  editor  of  La 
Justice^  and  first  lieutenant  to  M.  Clenienccau,  having  severely  criticized  some 
passages  in  M.  Blanc's  "Ilistoire  de  la  Kevolution,"  relating  to  Marie- Antoinette, 
the  author  quoted  a  passage  of  Madame  Campan's ''  Memoires  "  in  support  of  his 
writings.  The  critic  refused  to  admit  the  conclusiveness  of  the  proof,  where- 
upon M.  Blanc  appealed  to  the  Society  des  Gens  de  Lettres,  which,  on  the  sum- 
ming up  of  M.  Taxile  Delord,  gave  a  verdict  in  his  favour.  M.  Pelletan 
deehneu  to  submit  to  the  verdict,  as  he  liad  refused  to  admit  the  jurisdiction, 
of  the  tribunal.  M.  Blanc,  wlio  had  at  first  scouted  all  idea  of  a  duel,  con- 
sidered himself  obliged  to  resort  to  this  means  of  obtaining  satisfaction,  seeing 


LOUIS  BLANC  AS  AN  EDITOR.  95 

M.  Blanc's  boast  tliat  he  would  advance  nothing  except 
on  proof  positive  was  not  an  idle  one,  as  his  contributors 
found  out  to  their  cost.  Every  afternoon,  at  three,  he  arrived 
at  the  office  to  read  the  paper  in  proof  from  the  first  line  to 
the  last.  Not  the  slightest  .inaccuracy  was  allowed  to  pass. 
Kind  as  he  was,  his  reporters'  lives  became  a  burden.  One 
of  the  latter  told  me  a  story  which,  though  it  illustrates  the 
ridiculousness  of  M.  Blanc's  scruples  when  carried  too  far,  is 
none  the  less  valuable.  A  dog  had  been  run  over  on  the 
Boulevards,  and  the  reporter,  with  a  hankering  after  the 
realistic  method,  had  endeavored  to  reproduce  onomato- 
poeically  the  sounds  uttered  by  the  animal  in  pain. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure,  monsieur,  about  your  sounds  ? " 
asked  Blanc. 

"  Of  course,  I  am  as  sure  as  a  non-scientific  man  can  be," 
was  the  answer. 

"  Then  strike  them  out ;  one  ought  to  be  scientifically 
sure.  By-the-by,  I  see  you  have  made  use  of  the  word 
'howl '  (hurler).  Unless  I  am  mistaken,  a  dog  when  in  pain 
yelps  (glapit).     Please  alter  it." 

On  another  occasion,  on  going  through  the  advertise- 
ments, he  found  a  new  one  relating  to  a  cough  mixture,  set- 
ting forth  its  virtues  in  the  most  glowing  terms.  Imme- 
diately the  advertisement  canvasser  was  sent  for,  M.  Blanc 
having  refused  to  farm  out  that  department  to  an  agency,  as 
is  frequently  done  in  Paris,  in  order  to  retain  the  absolute 
control  over  it. 

"  Monsieur,  I  see  that  you  have  a  new  advertisement,  and 
it  seems  to  me  a  profitable  one  ;  still,  before  inserting  it,  I 


that  M.  Pelletan  stoutly  maintained  his  opinion.  A  meetinn;  had  been  arranged 
when  the  Revolution  of  '48  broke  out.  The  opponents  having  both  gone  to  the 
I16tel-do-Villc,  met  by  accident  at  the  entrance,  and  fell  into  one  another's 
arms.  "  Thank  Heaven ! "  exclaimed  Thiers,  when  he  heard  of  it.  "  If  relletan 
had  killed  Blanc,  I  should  have  been  the  smallest  man  in  France." 

M.  Blanc's  allusion  to  other  "preu.x  chevaliers"  aimed  particularly  at  M. 
Cousin,  who,  having  become  a  minister  against  his  will,  resumed  with  a  sigh  of 
relief  Jiis  studies  under  the  Second  Empire.  He  was  especially  fond  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  and  all  at  once  he,  wlio  had  scarcely  ever  noticed  a  pretty 
woman,  became  violently  smitten  with  the  Duchesse  de  Longueville,  who  had 
been  in  her  grave  for  nearly  two  centuries.  Ho  positively  invested  her  Avith 
every  perfection,  moral  and  mental ;  unfortunately,  he  could  not  invest  her  with 
a  shapely  bust,  the  evidence  being  too  overwhelmingly  against  her  having  been 
adorned  that  way.  One  day  some  one  showed  him  a  portrait  of  the  sister  of 
the  "  grand  Coucle,"  in  which  she  was  amply  provided  with  the  charms  the 
absence  of  whicli  M.  Cousin  regretted.  He  wrote  a  special  chapter  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  was  well-nigh  challenging  all  his  contradictors. — Editor. 


96  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

should  like  to  be  certain  that  the  medicine  does  all  it  pro- 
fesses to  do.     Can  you  personally  vouch  for  its  efficiency  ?  " 

"  Mon  Dieu,  monsieur,  I  believe  it  does  all  it  professes  to 
do,  but  you  can  scarcely  expect  me  to  run  the  risk  of  bron- 
chitis in  order  to  test  it  upon  myself ! " 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  be  so  exacting  and  indif- 
ferent to  other  people's  health,  but  until  you  can  bring  me 
some  one  who  has  been  cured,  we  will  not  insert  it." 

Let  me  come  back  for  a  moment  to  that  sentence  of 
Louis  Blanc,  about  the  practice  of  duelling,  in  connection 
with  one  of  the  most  tragic  affairs  of  that  kind  within  my 
recollection.  I  am  alluding  to  the  Dujarrier-Beauvallon 
duel.  I  have  been  in  the  habit  for  years,  whenever  an  im- 
portant meeting  took  place  in  France,  to  read  every  shade  of 
English  opinion  on  the  subject ;  and  while  recognizing  the 
elevated  sentiments  of  the  writers,  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  not  a  single  one  knew  what  he  was  writing  about. 
They  could  not  grasp  the  fact  that  for  a  man  of  social  stand- 
ing to  refuse  a  challenge  or  to  refrain  from  sending  one,  save 
under  very  exceptional  circumstances,  was  tantamount  to 
courting  social  death.  They  knew  not  that  every  door  would 
henceforth  be  closed  against  him ;  that  his  wife's  best  friends 
would  cease  to  call  upon  her,  by  direction  of  their  husbands ; 
that  his  children  at  school  would  be  shunned  by  their  com- 
rades ;  that  no  young  man  of  equal  position  to  his,  were  he 
ever  so  much  in  love  with  his  daughter,  Avould  ask  her  to 
become  his  wife,  that  no  parents  would  allow  their  daughter 
to  marry  his  son.  That  is  what  backing  out  of  a  duel  meant 
years  ago ;  that  is  what  it  still  means  to-day — of  course,  I 
repeat,  with  certain  classes.  Is  it  surprising,  then,  that  with 
such  a  prospect  facing  him,  a  man  should  risk  death  rather 
than  become  a  pariah  ?  Would  the  English  leader-writer,  if 
he  be  a  man  of  worth,  like  to  enter  his  club-room  without  a 
hand  held  out  to  welcome  him  from  those  with  whom  he  was 
but  a  few  weeks  ago  on  the  most  friendly  footing,  without  a 
voice  to  give  him  the  time  of  day  ?  I  think  not ;  and  that 
is  what  would  happen  if  he  were  a  Frenchman  who  neglected 
to  ask  satisfaction  for  even  an  imaginary  insult. 

I  knew  M.  Dujarrier,  the  general  manager  of  La  Presse^ 
and  feel  convinced  that  he  was  not  a  bit  more  quarrelsome 
or  eager  "  to  go  out "  than  Louis  Blanc.  It  is,  moreover, 
certain  that  he  felt  his  inferiority,  both  as  a  swordsman  and 
as  a  marksman,  to  such  a  practised  shot  and  fencer  as  M.  de 


DUELS.  97 

Beauvallon ;  and  well  he  might,  seeing  that  subsequent  evi- 
dence proved  that  he,  Dujarrier,  had  never  handled  either 
weapon.  Yet  he  not  only  strenuously  opposed  all  attempts 
on  the  part  of  his  friends  to  effect  a  reconciliation,  but  would 
not  afford  a  hint  to  his  adversary  of  his  want  of  skill,  lest 
the  latter  should  make  him  a  present  of  his  life.  The  pres- 
ent would  not  have  been  worth  accepting.  It  would  have 
been  a  Xessus-shirt,  and  caused  the  moral  death  of  the  recip- 
ient. Consequently,  Dujarrier  literally  went  like  a  lamb  to 
the  slaughter  rather  than  be  branded  as  a  coward,  and  he 
made  no  secret  of  his  contemplated  sacrifice.  "  I  have  no 
alternative  but  to  fight,"  he  said,  two  days  before  the  meet- 
ing, to  Alexandre  Dumas,  who  taxed  all  his  own  ingenuity, 
and  that  of  his  son,  to  prevent,  at  any  rate,  a  fatal  issue. 
The  only  way  to  effect  this,  according  to  the  very  logical 
reasoning  of  the  two  Dumases,  was  to  induce  Dujarrier,  who, 
as  the  offended  party,  had  the  choice  of  weapons,  to  choose 
the  sword.  They  counted  upon  the  generosity  of  Beauval- 
lon, who,  as  a  gentleman,  on  discovering  his  adversary's  utter 
lack  of  skill,  would  disarm,  or  inflict  a  slight  wound  on 
him.  Unfortunately,  young  Dumas,  with  the  best  inten- 
tions, unburthened  himself  to  that  effect  among  those  most 
interested  in  the  affair,  namely,  the  staffs  of  La  Presse  and 
Le  Globe.  These  two  journals  were  literally  at  daggers 
drawn,  and  some  writers  connected  with  the  latter  went 
hinting,  if  not  saying  openly,  that  Dujarrier  was  already 
showing  the  white  feather.  Whether  Dujarrier  heard  of  the 
comments  in  that  shape,  or  whether  he  instinctively  guessed 
what  they  would  be,  has  never  been  clearly  made  out,  but  it 
is  certain  that  from  that  moment  he  insisted  upon  the  use  of 
pistols.  "  I  do  not  intend  my  adversary  to  show  me  the 
slightest  favour,  either  by  disarming  me  or  by  wounding  me 
in  the  arm  or  leg.  I  mean  to  have  a  serious  encounter,"  he 
said.  Young  Dumas,  frightened  perhaps  at  his  want  of  reti- 
cence in  the  matter,  begged  his  father  to  go  and  see  Grisier,* 
and  claim  his  intervention.  Alexandre  Dumas,  than  whom 
no  stauncher  friend  ever  existed  who  would  have  willingly 
risked  his  own  life  to  save  that  of  Dujarrier,  had  to  decline 
the  mission  suggested  by  his  son.  "  I  cannot  do  it,"  he  said ; 
"the  first  and  foremost  thing  is  to  safeguard  Dujarrier's 

*  The  great  fencing-master,  whom  Dumas  immortalized  in  his  "Maitre 
d'Armes," — Editor. 


98  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

reputation,  which  is  the  more  precious  because  it  is  his  first 
duel." 

"  His  first  duel," — here  is  the  key-note  to  the  whole  of  the 
proceedings  as  far  as  Dujarrier  and  his  personal  friends  were 
concerned.  Had  Dujarrier  been  in  the  position  of  the  edi- 
tor of  his  paper,  Emile  de  Girardin, — had  he  been  out  before 
and  killed  or  severely  wounded  his  man,  as  the  latter  killed 
Armand  Carrel  nine  years  before, — he  might  have  openly  an- 
nounced his  determination  "  never  to  go  out  again  "  under 
no  matter  what  provocation.  Unfortunately,  Dujarrier  was 
not  in  that  position ;  in  fact,  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say 
that  Dujarrier  paid  the  penalty  of  M.  de  Girardin's  decision. 
A  great  deal  of  mawkish  sentiment  has  been  wasted  upon 
the  tragic  fate  of  Armand  Carrel ;  in  reality,  he  had  what  he 
deserved,  albeit  that  no  one  more  than  M.  de  Girardin  himself 
regretted  his  untimely  end.  Most  writers  will  tell  one  that 
Carrel  fell  a  victim  to  his  political  opinions;  nothing  is 
farther  from  the  truth.  Armand  Carrel  fell  a  victim  to  a 
"  question  of  shop "  of  which  he  allowed  himself,  though 
perhaps  not  deliberately,  to  become  the  champion.  After 
many  attempts,  more  or  less  successful,  in  the  way  of  popu- 
lar journalism,  M.  de  Girardin,  in  1836,  started  La  Presse, 
a  serious  journal  of  the  same  size  as  the  then  existing  ones, 
but  at  half  the  subscription  of  the  latter,  all  of  which  abso- 
lutely banded  at  once  against  him.  Armand  Carrel,  who 
was  a  soldier,  and  a  valiant  soldier,  a  writer  of  talent,  and  a 
gentleman  to  boot,  ought  to  have  stood  aloof  from  that  kind 
of  polemics.  Emile  de  Girardin  was  not  the  likely  man  to 
submit  to  open  or  implied  insult.  His  best,  albeit  his  least- 
known  book,  "  Emile,"  which  is  as  it  were  an  autobiography, 
had  given  the  measure  of  his  thoughts  on  the  subject  of 
duelling.  "  Emile  "  goes  into  society  as  a  soldier  would  go 
into  an  enemy's  country.  Not  that  he  is  by  nature  cruel  or 
bloodthirsty,  but  he  knows  that,  to  hold  his  own,  he  must  be 
always  ready,  not  only  for  defence,  but  for  attack. 

"  The  secret  one  is  bound  to  preserve  with  regard  to  the 
preparations  for  a  meeting,  and  those  preparations  them- 
selves are  simply  horrible.  The  care,  the  precautions  to  be 
taken,  the  secret  which  is  not  to  leak  out,  all  these  are  very 
like  the  preparations  for  a  crime,"  he  says.  "  Nevertheless," 
he  goes  on,  "  the  horror  of  all  this  disappears,  when  the  man, 
impelled  by  hatred  or  resentment,  is  thirsting  for  revenge  ; 
but  when  the  heart  is  absolutely  withoxit  gall,  and  when  the 


A  CELEBRATED  ENCOUNTER.  99 

imagination  is  still  subject  to  all  the  softer  emotions,  then, 
in  order  not  to  recoil  with  fear  at  the  ever  horrible  idea  of  a 
duel,  a  man  must  be  imbued  with  all  the  force  of  a  preju- 
dice which  resists  the  tery  laws  that  condemn  it." 

It  was  under  the  latter  circumstances  that  M.  de  Girar- 
din  confronted  his  adversary.  The  two  men  had  probably 
never  exchanged  a  word  with  one  another,  they  felt  no  per- 
sonal animosity ;  nay,  more,  the  duel  was  not  an  ineviiahle 
one ;  and  yet  it  cost  one  man  his  life,  and  burthened  the 
other  with  lifelong  regrets. 

Had  the  issue  been  different,  La  Presse  would  probably 
have  disappeared,  and  all  recrimination  ceased.  As  it  was, 
unable  to  goad  M.  de  Girardin  into  a  reversal  of  his  decision 
"  never  to  go  out  again,"  and  that  in  sj^ite  of  nine  years  of 
direct  insult  from  a  so-called  political  party,  of  every  kind  of 
quasi-legal  vexation,  M.  de  Beauvallon  constituted  himself  a 
second  Armand  Carrel,  selecting  Dujarrier  as  his  victim,  the 
chief  not  being  available.  But  here  all  resemblance  to  Ar- 
mand Carrel  ceased,  and  the  law  itself  was  anxious  to  mark 
the  difference.  In  the  one  case  it  had  been  set  at  nought  by 
two  men  of  undoubted  courage  and  undoubted  honour,  meet- 
ing upon  equal  terms  ;  in  the  other,  it  was  proved  that,  not 
content  with  Dujarrier's  well-known  inferiority,  De  Beau- 
vallon's  pistols  had  been  tried  before  the  encounter.  The 
court  could  take  no  cognizance  of  this,  but  it  marked  its 
disapproval  by  sentencing  Beauvallon  to  eight  years',  and 
one  of  his  seconds,  M.  d'Ecquevilley,  to  ten  years'  imprison- 
ment for  perjury.  Both  had  declared  on  oath  that  the  pis- 
tols had  not  been  tried.  The  Dujarrier  duel  caused  a  deep 
and  painful  sensation.  I  have  dwelt  upon  it  at  greater  length 
than  was  absolutely  necessary,  because  it  inspired  me  with  a 
resolution  from  which  I  have  never  departed  since.  I  was 
twenty-seven  at  the  time,  and,  owing  to  circumstances  which 
I  need  not  relate  here,  foresaw  that  the  greater  part  of  my 
life  would  be  spent  in  France.  I  am  neither  more  courage- 
ous nor  more  cowardly  than  most  persons,  but  I  objected  to 
be  shot  down  like  a  mad  dog  on  the  most  futile  pretext  because 
some  one  happened  to  have  a  grudge  against  me.  To  have 
declined  "  to  go  out "  on  the  score  of  my  nationality  would 
not  have  met  the  case  in  the  conditions  in  which  I  was  liv- 
ing, so  from  that  moment  I  became  an  assiduous  client  at 
Gosset's  shooting-gallery,  and  took  fencing  lessons  of  Grisier. 
I  do  not  know  that  I  became  very  formidable  with  either 


100  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

weapon,  only  sufficiently  skilled  not  to  be  altogether  defence- 
less. I  took  care  at  the  same  time  to  let  it  go  forth  that  a 
duel  to  me  not  only  meant  one  or  both  parties  so  severely 
wounded  as  not  to  be  able  to  continue  the  struggle,  but  the 
resumption  of  the  combat,  when  he  or  they  had  recovered, 
until  one  was  killed.  Of  course,  it  implied  that  I  would  only 
go  out  for  a  sufficiently  weighty  reason,  but  that,  if  com- 
pelled to  do  so  for  a  trifling  one,  I  would  still  adhere  to  my 
original  resolution.  Only  once,  more  than  twelve  years  aft- 
erwards, I  had  a  quarrel  fastened  upon  me,  arising  out  of 
the  excitement  consequent  upon  the  attempt  of  Orsini.  I 
was  the  offended  party,  and,  as  such,  could  dictate  the  con- 
ditions of  the  meeting.  I  declined  to  modify  in  the  least 
the  rules  I  had  laid  down  for  my  own  guidance,  and  stated 
as  much  to  those  who  were  to  act  for  me — General  Fleury 
and  Alexandre  Dumas.  My  adversary's  friends  refused  to 
accept  the  terms.  I  was  never  molested  afterwards,  though 
an  Englishman  had  not  always  a  pleasant  life  of  it,  even  un- 
der the  Second  Empire. 

In  connection  with  Dujarrier's  duel,  I  may  say  a  few 
words  here  of  that  quasi-wonderful  woman,  Lola  Montes. 
I  say  "quasi,"  because  really  there  was  nothing  wonderful 
about  her,  except  perhaps  her  beauty  and  her  consummate 
impudence.  She  had  not  a  scrap  of  talent  of  any  kind ; 
education  she  had  none,  for,  whether  she  spoke  in  Eng- 
lish, French,  or  Spanish,  grammatical  errors  abounded,  and 
her  expressions  were  always  those  of  a  pretentious  house- 
maid, unless  they  were  those  of  an  excited  fishwife.  She 
told  me  that  she  had  been  at  a  boarding-school  in  Bath, 
and  that  she  was  a  native  of  Limerick,  but  that  when  quite  a 
child  she  was  taken  to  Seville  by  her  parents.  Her  father, 
according  to  her  account,  Avas  a  Spaniard,  her  mother  a 
Creole.  "  But  I  scandalized  every  one  at  school,  and  would 
not  learn."  I  could  quite  believe  that ;  what  I  could  not 
believe  was  that  a  girl  of  her  quick  powers — for  she  undoubt- 
edly possessed  those — could  have  spent,  however  short  a  time 
in  the  society  of  decent  girls  of  her  own  age,  let  alone  of 
presumedly  refined  school-mistresses,  without  having  ac- 
quired some  elementary  notions  of  manner  and  address.  Her 
gait  and  carriage  were  those  of  a  duchess,  for  she  was  natu- 
rally graceful,  but  the  moment  she  opened  her  lips,  the  illu- 
sion vanished — at  least  to  me ;  for  I  am  bound  to  admit  that 
men  of  far  higher  intellectual  attainments  than  mine,  and 


LOLA  mont:&s.  101 

familiar  with  very  good  society,  raved  and  kept  raving  about 
her,  though  all  those  defects  could  not  have  failed  to  strike 
them  as  they  had  struck  me.  I  take  it  that  it  must  have  been 
hei  beauty,  for,  though  not  devoid  of  wit,  her  wit  was  that  of 
the  pot-house,  which  would  not  have  been  tolerated  in  the 
smoking-room  of  a  club  in  the  small  hours. 

When  Dujarrier  was  carried  home  dying  to  the  Rue 
Lafitte,  a  woman  flung  herself  on  the  body  and  covered  his 
face  with  kisses.  That  woman  was  Lola  Montes.  In  his  will 
he  left  her  eighteen  shares  in  the  Palais-Royal  Theatre,  amount- 
ing in  value  to  about  20,000  francs.  She  insisted  afterwards 
in  appearing  as  a  witness  at  the  trial  in  Rouen,  although  her 
evidence  threw  not  the  slightest  light  upon  the  matter.  She 
wanted  to  create  a  sensation ;  and  she  accomplished  her  aim. 
I  was  there,  and  though  the  court  was  crowded  with  men  oc- 
cupying the  foremost  ranks  in  literature,  art,  and  Paris  soci- 
ety, no  one  attracted  the  attention  she  did.  Even  the  sober 
president  and  assessors  sat  staring  at  her  open-mouthed  when 
she  took  her  stand  behind  the  little  rail  which  does  duty  for 
a  witness-box  in  France.  She  was  dressed  in  mourning — not 
the  deepest,  but  soft  masses  of  silk  and  lace — and  when  she 
lifted  her  veil  and  took  off  her  glove  to  take  the  prescribed 
oath,  a  murmur  of  admiration  ran  through  the  court.  That 
is  why  she  had  undertaken  the  journey  to  Rouen,  and  verily 
she  had  her  reward. 

It  was  on  that  occasion  that  I  became  acquainted,  though 
quite  by  accident,  with  the  young  man  who,  ten  or  eleven  years 
later,  was  to  leap  into  fame  all  of  a  sudden  with  one  novel. 
I  have  already  said  that  the  court  was  very  crowded,  and  next 
to  me  was  standing  a  tall,  strapping  fellow,  somewhat  younger 
than  myself,  whom,  at  the  first  glance,  one  would  have  taken 
to  be  an  English  country  gentleman  or  well-to-do  farmer's  son. 
Such  mistakes  are  easily  made  in  Normandy.  When  Lola 
Montes  came  forward  to  give  her  evidence,  some  one  on  the 
other  side  of  him  remarked  that  she  looked  like  the  heroine 
of  a  novel. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  the  heroines  of  the  real  novels 
enacted  in  everyday  life  do  not  always  look  like  that." 

Then  he  turned  to  me,  having  seen  me  speak  to  several 
people  from  Paris  and  in  company  of  Alexandre  Dumas 
and  Berryer,  whom  everybody  knew.  He  asked  me 
some  particulars  about  Lola  Montes,  which  I  gave  him.  I 
found  him    exceedingly  well-informed.      We    chatted    for 


102  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

a  while.  When  he  left  he  handed  me  his  card,  and  hoped 
that  we  should  see  one  another  again.  The  card  bore  the 
simple  superscription  of  "  Gustave  Flaubert."  I  was  told 
during  the  evening  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  local  physician 
of  note.  Twelve  years  later  the  whole  of  France  rang  with 
his  name.  He  had  written  "  Madame  Bovary,"  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  what  subsequently  became  the  ultra-realistic 
school  of  French  fiction. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Lola  Montes.  The  trial  was 
really  the  starting-point  of  her  notoriety,  for,  in  spite  of  her 
beauty,  she  had  been  at  one  time  reduced  to  sing  in  the  streets 
in  Brussels.  That  was  after  she  had  fled  from  Calcutta,  whith- 
er her  first  husband,  a  captain  or  lieutenant  James,  in  the  serv- 
ice of  the  East  India  Company,  had  taken  her.  She  landed 
at  Southampton,  and,  during  her  journey  to  London,  man- 
aged to  ingratiate  herself  with  an  English  nobleman,  by  pre- 
tending that  she  was  the  wife  a  Spanish  soldier  who  had  been 
shot  by  the  Carlists.  She  told  me  all  this  herself,  because  she 
was  not  in  the  least  reticent  about  her  scheming,  especially 
after  her  scheming  had  failed.  She  would,  however,  not  di- 
vulge the  name  of  her  travelling  companion,  who  tried  to  be- 
friend her  by  introducing  her  to  some  of  his  acquaintances, 
with  the  view  of  obtaining  singing  lessons  for  her.  "  But  I 
did  not  make  my  expenses,  because  you  English  are  so  very 
moral  and  my  patron  was  suspected  of  not  giving  himself  all 
that  trouble  for  nothing.  Besides,  they  managed  to  ferret  out 
that  I  was  not  the  widow  of  a  Spanish  oflicer,  but  the  wife  of 
an  English  one ;  and  then,  as  you  may  imagine,  it  was  all  up. 
I  got,  however,  an  engagement  at  the  Opera  House  in  the  bal- 
let, but  not  for  long  ;  of  course,  I  could  not  dance  much,  but 
I  could  dance  as  well  as  half  your  wooden  ugly  women  that 
were  there.  But  they  told  tales  about  me,  and  the  manager 
dismissed  me.''  * 

*  The  English  nobleman  must  have  been  Lord  Malmesbury,  who  alludes  to 
her  as  follows :  "  This  was  a  most  remarkable  woman,  and  may  be  said  by  her 
conduct  at  Munich  to  have  set  fire  to  the  magazine  of  revolution,  which  was 
ready  to  burst  forth  all  over  Europe,  and  which  made  the  year  1848  memorable. 
I  made  her  acquaintance  by  accident,  as  I  was  going  up  to  London  from  Heron 
Court,  in  the  railway.  The  Consul  at  Southampton  asked  me  to  take  charge  of 
a  Spanish  lady  who  had  been  recommended  to  his  care,  and  who  had  just 
landed.  I  consented  to  do  this,  and  was  introduced  by  him  to  a  remarkably 
handsome  person,  who  was  in  deep  mourning,  and  who  appeared  to  be  in  great 
distress.  As  we  were  alone  in  the  carriage,  she,  of  her  own  accord,  informed 
me,  in  bad  English,  that  she  was  the  widow  of  Don  Diego  Leon,  who  had  lately 
been  shot  by  lie  Carlists  after  he  was  taken  prisoner,  and  that  she  was  going  to 


ROYAL  CONJUGAL  FELICITY.  103 

She  fostered  no  illusions  with  regard  to  her  choregraphic 
talents;  in  fact,  she  fostered  no  illusions  about  anything, 
and  her  candour  was  the  best  trait  in  her  character.  She 
had  failed  as  a  dancer  in  \Varsaw,  whither  she  had  gone  from 
London,  by  way  of  Brussels.  In  the  Belgian  capital,  accord- 
ing to  her  own  story,  she  had  been  obliged  to  sing  in  the 
streets  to  keep  from  starvation.  I  asked  her  why  she  had  not 
come  from  London  to  Paris,  "  where  for  a  woman  of  her  at- 
tractions, and  not  hampered  by  many  scruples,"  as  I  pointed 
out  to  her,  "  there  were  many  more  resources  than  elsewhere." 
The  answer  was  so  characteristic  of  the  daring  adventuress, 
who,  notwithstanding  her  impecuniosity,  flew  at  the  highest 
game  to  be  had,  that  I  transcribe  it  in  full.  I  am  often  re- 
luctant to  trust  to  my  memory :  in  this  instance  I  may ;  I 
remember  every  word  of  it.  This  almost  illiterate  schemer, 
who  probably  had  not  the  remotest  notion  of  geography,  of 
history,  had  pretty  well  "  the  Almanach  de  Grotha  "  by  heart, 
and  seemed  to  guess  instinctively  at  things  which  said  Al- 
manach carefully  abstained  from  mentioning,  namely,  the 
good  understanding  or  the  reverse  between  the  married  royal 
couples  of  Europe,  etc. 


London  to  sell  some  Spanish  property  that  she  possessed,  and  give  lessons  in 
singing,  as  she  was  very  poor.  On  arriving  in  London  she  took  some  lodgings, 
and  came  to  my  house  to  a  little  concert  which  I  gave,  and  sang  some  Spanish 
ballads.  Her  accent  was  foreign,  and  she  had  all  the  appearance  of  being  what 
she  pretended  to  be.  She  sold  different  things,  such  as  veils,  etc.,  to  the  party 
present,  find  received  a  good  deal  of  patronage.  Eventually  she  took  an  en- 
gagement for  the  ballet  at  the  Opera  House,  but  her  dancing  was  very  inferior. 
At  last  she  was  recognized  as  an  impostor,  her  real  name  being  Mrs.  James, 
and  Irish  by  extraction,  and  had  married  an  officer  in  India.  Her  engagement 
at  the  Opera  was  cancelled,  she  left  the  country,  and  retired  to  Munich.  She 
was  a  very  violent  woman,  and  actually  struck  one  of  the  Bavarian  generals  as 
he  was  reviewing  the  troops.  The  king  became  perfectly  infatuated  with  her 
beauty  and  cleverness,  andT  gave  her  large  sums  of  money,  with  a  title,  which 
she  afterwards  bore  when  she  returned  to  England."  ("  Memoirs  of  an  Ex- 
minister,"  by  the  Earl  of  Malmesbury.) 

Lord  Malmesbury  is  wrong  in  nearly  every  particular  which  he  has  got 
from  hearsay.  Lola  Montes  di^  not  retire  to  Munich  after  her  engagement  at 
the  Opera  House  had  been  cancelled,  but  to  Brussels,  and  from  there  to  War- 
saw. Nor  did  she  play  the  all-important  part  in  the  Bavarian  riots  or  revolu- 
tion he  ascribes  to  her.  The  author  of  these  notes  has  most  of  the  particulars 
of  Lola  Montes'  career  previous  to  her  appearance  in  Munich  from  her  own 
lips,  and,  as  he  has  already  said,  she  was  not  in  the  least  reticent  about  her 
sclieming,  especially  when  her  scheming  had  failed.  For  the  story  of  the 
events  at  Munich,  I  gather  inferentially  from  his  notes  that  he  is  indebted  to 
Karl  von  Abel,  King  Ludwig's  ultramontane  minister,  who  came  afterwards 
to  Paris,  and  who,  if  1  mistake  not,  was  the  father  or  the  uncle  of  HeiT  von 
Abel,  the  Berlin  correspondent  of  the  Times,  some  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  ago. 
— Editob. 


104  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"  Why  did  I  not  come  to  Paris ! "  slie  replied.  "  What 
was  the  good  of  coming  to  Paris  where  there  was  a  king, 
bourgeois  to  his  finger-nails,  tight-fisted  besides,  and  notori- 
ously the  most  moral  and  best  father  all  the  world  over ;  with 
princes  who  were  nearly  as  much  married  as  their  dad,  and 
with  those  who  were  single  far  away  ?  What  was  the  good 
of  coming  to  a  town  where  you  could  not  bear  the  title  of 
*  la  maitresse  du  prince  '  without  the  risk  of  being  taken  to 
the  frontier  between  two  gendarmes,  where  you  could  not  have 
squeezed  a  thousand  louis  out  of  any  of  the  royal  sons  for 
the  life  of  you  ?  What  was  the  good  of  trying  to  get  a  count, 
where  the  wife  of  a  grocer  or  a  shoemaker  might  have  ob- 
jected to  your  presence  at  a  ball,  on  the  ground  of  your  being 
an  immoral  person  ?  No,  I  really  meant  to  make  my  way 
to  the  Hague.  I  had  heard  that  William  II.  whacked  his 
wife  like  any  drunken  labourer,  so  that  his  sons  had  to  in- 
terfere every  now  and  then.  I  had  heard  this  in  Calcutta, 
and  from  folk  who  were  likely  to  know.  But  as  I  thought 
that  I  might  have  the  succession  of  the  whacks,  as  well  as  of 
the  lord,  I  wanted  to  try  my  chance  at  Brussels  first ;  besides, 
I  hadn't  much  money." 

"  But  King  Leopold  is  married,  and  lives  very  happily 
with  his  wife,"  I  interrupted. 

"  Of  course  he  does — they  all  do,"  was  the  answer ;  "  mais 
9a  n'emp^che  pas  les  sentiments,  does  it  ?  I  am  very  igno- 
rant, and  haven't  a  bit  of  memory,  but  I  once  heard  a  story 
about  a  Danish  or  Swedish  king — I  do  not  know  the  dif- 
ference— who  married  an  adventuress  like  myself,  though 
the  queen  and  the  mother  of  his  heir  was  alive.  He  com- 
mitted bigmay,  but  kings  and  queens  may  do  things  we  mayn't. 
One  day,  he  and  his  lawful  wife  were  at  one  of  their  country 
seats,  and,  leaning  out  of  the  window,  when  a  carriage  passed 
with  a  good-looking  woman  in  it,  '  Who  is  this  lady  ? '  asked 
the  queen.  '  That's  my  wife,'  replied  the  king.  '  Your  wife ! 
what  am  I,  then  ? '  said  the  queen.  '  You  ?  well,  you  are  my 
queen.'  * 

"  Never  mind,  whatever  my  intentions  on  Leopold's 
money  or  affections  may  have  been,  they  came  to  nothing ; 
for  before  I  could  get  as  much  as  a  peep  at  him,  my  money 


*  Lola  Montes  was  perfectly  correct.  It  was  Frederick  IV.  of  Denmark, 
only  the  woman  was  not  an  adventuress  like  herself,  but  the  Countess  Kevent- 
low,  whom  he  had  abducted. — Editob. 


HER  WANDERINGS.  106 

had  all  been  spent,  and  I  was  obliged  to  part  with  my  clothes 
first,  and  then  to  sing  in  the  streets  to  get  food.  I  was  taken 
from  Brussels  to  Warsaw  by  a  man  whom  I  believe  to  be  a 
German.  He  spoke  many  languages,  but  he  was  not  very 
well  off  himself.  However,  he  was  very  kind,  and,  when  we 
got  to  Warsaw,  managed  to  get  me  an  engagement  at  the 
Opera.  After  two  or  three  days,  the  director  told  me  that  I 
couldn't  dance  a  bit.  I  stared  him  full  in  the  face,  and 
asked  him  whether  he  thought  that,  if  I  could  dance,  I  would 
have  come  to  such  a  hole  as  his  theatre.  Thereupon  he 
laughed,  and  said  I  was  a  clever  girl  for  all  that,  and  that  he 
would  keep  me  on  for  ornament.  I  didn't  give  him  the 
chance  for  long.  I  left  after  about  two  months,  with  a 
Polish  gentleman,  who  brought  me  to  Paris.  The  moment 
I  get  a  nice  round  lump  sum  of  money,  I  am  going  to  carry 
out  my  original  plan ;  that  is,  trying  to  hook  a  prince.  I  am 
sick  of  being  told  that  I  can't  dance.  They  told  me  so  in 
London,  they  told  me  in  Warsaw,  they  told  me  at  the  Porte 
Saint-Martin  where  they  hissed  me.  I  don't  think  the  men, 
if  left  to  themselves,  would  hiss  me ;  their  wives  and  their 
daughters  put  them  up  to  it :  a  woman  like  myself  spoils 
their  trade  of  honest  women.  I  am  only  waiting  my  chance 
here ;  for  though  you  are  all  very  nice  and  generous  and  all 
that  kind  of  thing,  it  is  not  what  I  want." 

Shortly  after  this  conversation,  the  death  of  Dujarrier 
and  his  legacy  to  her  gave  her  the  chance  she  had  been  look- 
ing for.  She  left  for  London,  I  heard,  with  an  Englishman ; 
but  I  never  saw  him,  so  I  cannot  say  for  certain.  But,  it 
appears,  she  did  not  stay  long,  because,  a  little  while  after, 
several  Parisians,  on  their  return  from  Germany,  reported 
that  they  had  met  her  at  AViesbaden,  at  Homburg,  and 
elsewhere,  punting  in  a  small  way,  not  settling  down  any- 
where, and  almost  deliberately  avoiding  both  Frenchmen  and 
Englishmen.  The  rumour  went  that  her  husband  was  on 
her  track,  and  that  her  anxiety  to  avoid  him  had  caused  her 
to  leave  London  hurriedly.  In  spite  of  her  chequered  career, 
in  spite  of  the  shortcomings  at  Brussels,  Lola  Montes  was  by 
no  means  anxious  for  the  "  sweet  yoke  of  domesticity."  In 
another  six  months,  her  name  was  almost  forgotten  by  all  of 
us,  except  by  Alexandre  Dumas,  who  now  and  then  alluded 
to  her.  Though  far  from  superstitious,  Dumas,  who  had 
been  as  much  smitten  with  her  as  most  of  her  admirers, 
avowed  that  he  was  glad  she  had  disappeared.     "  She  has 


106  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

*  the  eyil  eye,' "  he  said ;  "  and  sure  to  bring  bad  luck  to  any 
one  who  closely  links  his  destiny  with  hers,  for  however 
short  a  time.  You  see  what  has  occurred  to  Dujarrier.  If 
ever  she  is  heard  of  again,  it  will  be  in  connection  with  some 
terrible  calamity  that  has  befallen  a  lover  of  hers."  "We  all 
laughed  at  him,  except  Dr.  Veron,  who  could  have  given 
odds  to  Solomon  Eagle  himself  at  prophesying.  Fortunately 
he  was  generally  afraid  to  open  his  lips,  for  he  was  thoroughly 
sincere  in  his  belief  that  he  could  prevent  the  event  by  not 
predicting  it — at  any  rate  aloud.  For  once  in  a  way,  how- 
ever, Alexandre  Dumas  proved  correct.  When  we  did  hear 
again  of  Lola  Montes,  it  was  in  connection  with  the  disturb- 
ances that  had  broken  out  at  Munich,  and  the  abdication  of 
her  royal  lover,  Louis  I.  of  Bavaria,  in  favour  of  his  eldest 
son,  Maximilian. 

The  substance  of  the  following  notes  relating  to  said 
disturbances  was  communicated  to  me  by  a  political  per- 
sonage who  played  a  not  inconsiderable  part  in  the  events 
themselves.  As  a  rule  it  is  not  very  safe  to  take  interested 
evidence  of  that  kind,  "  but  in  this  instance,"  as  my  inform- 
ant put  it,  "  there  was  really  no  political  reputation  to  pre- 
serve, as  far  as  he  was  concerned."  Lola  Montes  had  simply 
tried  to  overthrow  him  as  Madame  Dubarry  overthrew  the 
Due  de  Choiseul,  because  he  would  not  become  her  creature ; 
and  she  had  kept  on  repeating  the  tactics  with  every  suc- 
ceeding ministry,  even  that  of  her  own  making.  But  it 
should  be  remembered  that  revolution  was  in  the  air  in  the 
year  '48,  and  that  if  Lola  Montes  had  been  the  most  retiring 
of  favourites,  or  Louis  I.  the  most  moral  of  kings,  the  upris- 
ing would  have  happened  just  the  same,  though  the  upshot 
might  have  been  different  with  regard  to  Louis  himself. 

Here  is  a  portrait  of  him,  which,  in  my  literary  igno- 
rance, I  think  sufficiently  interesting  to  reproduce. 

"  Louis  was  a  chip  of  the  old  Wittelsbach  block ;  that  is, 
a  Lovelace,  with  a  touch  of  the  minnesinger  about  him.  Age 
had  not  damped  his  ardour;  for,  though  he  was  sixty-one 
when  Lola  Months  took  up  her  quarters  at  Munich,  any  and 
every  '  beauty '  that  came  to  him  was  sure  of  an  enthusiastic 
welcome.  And  Heaven  alone  knows  how  many  had  come  to 
him  during  his  reign ;  they  seemed  really  directed  to  him 
from  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  The  new  arrival  had  her 
portrait  painted  almost  immediately;  it  was  added  to  the 
collection  for  which  a  special  gallery  had  been  set  apart,  and 


LOLA  AND  LOUIS  L  OF  BAVARIA.  107 

whither  Louis  went  to  meditate  by  himself  at  least  once  a 
day.  He  averred  that  he  went  thither  for  poetic  inspiration, 
for  he  took  himself  au  serieux  as  a  poet,  and,  above  all,  as  a 
classical  poet  modelling  his  verse  upon  those  of  ancient 
times.  He  had  published  a  volume  of  poems,  entitled  '  Wal- 
halla's  Genossen ' ;  *  but  his  principal  study  of  antiquity  was 
mainly  confined  to  the  rites  connected  with  the  worship  of 
Venus.  He  was  very  good-natur6d  and  pleasant  in  his  deal- 
ings with  every  one;  he  had  not  an  ounce  of  gall  in  the 
whole  of  his  body.  He  was,  moreover,  very  religious  in  his 
own  way,  and  consequently  the  tool  of  the  Jesuits,  who  really 
governed  the  kingdom,  but  who  endeavoured  to  make  his 
own  life  sweet  and  pleasant  to  him.  They  liked  him  to  take 
part  in  the  religious  processions,  as  any  burgher  of  devout 
tendencies  might,  but  being  aware  of  his  tendency  to  be  at- 
tracted by  the  first  pretty  face  he  caught  sight  of,  they  took 
care  to  relegate  all  the  handsome  maidens  and  matrons  to 
the  first  and  second  floors.  In  that  way  Louis's  eyes  were 
always  lifted  heavenwards,  and  religious  appearances  were 
preserved. 

"  Under  such  conditions,  it  was  not  difficult  for  a  woman 
of  Lola  Montes'  attractions  and  daring  to  gain  her  ends. 
She  was  not  altogether  without  means  when  she  came  to 
Munich,  though  the  sum  in  her  possession  was  far  from  a 
hundred  thousand  francs,  as  she  afterwards  alleged  it  was. 
At  any  rate,  she  was  not  the  penniless  adventuress  she  had 
formerly  been,  and  when,  in  her  beautiful  dresses,  she  ap- 
plied to  the  director  of  the  Hof -Theatre  for  an  engagement, 
the  latter  was  fairly  dazzled,  and  granted  her  request  without 
a  murmur.  She  did,  however,  not  want  to  dance,  and,  before 
her  first  appearance,  she  managed  to  set  tongues  wagging 
about  her  beauty,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  rumours 
reached  the  king's  ears.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  prefer 
a  grave  charge,  but  I  am  not  doing  so  without  foundation. 
It  is  almost  certain  by  now  that  the  Jesuits,  seeing  in  her  a 
tool  for  the  further  subjugation  of  the  superannuated  royal 
troubadour,  countenanced,  if  they  did  not  assist  her  in  her 
schemes ;  they,  the  Jesuits,  did  many  things  of  which  a 
Catholic,  like  myself,  however  firm  in  his  allegiance  to  Eome, 
could  not  but  disapprove.  At  any  rate,  three  or  four  days 
after  the  king's  first  meeting  with  her,  Lola  Montes  was  pre- 

*  "  Companions  in  Walhalla." — Editok. 


108  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

sented  at  court,  and  introduced  to  the  royal  family  and  corps 
diplomatique  by  the  sovereign  himself,  as  '  his  best  friend.* 
Events  proceeded  apace.  In  August,  '47,  the  king  granted 
her  patents  of  '  special  naturalization,'  created  her  Baroness 
von  Eosenthal,  and,  almost  immediately  afterwards,  Countess 
von  Landsfeld.  She  received  an  annuity  of  twenty  thousand 
florins,  and  had  a  magnificent  mansion  built  for  her.  At 
the  instance  of  the  king,  the  queen  was  compelled  to  confer 
the  order  of  St.  Ther^se  upon  her.  I,  and  many  others,  had 
strenuously  opposed  all  this,  though  not  unaware  that,  up 
till  then,  the  Jesuits  were  on  her  side,  rather  than  on  ours. 
We  paid  the  penalty  of  our  opposition  with  our  dismissal 
from  office,  and  then  Lola  Montes  confronted  the  Jesuits  by 
herself.  She  was  absolutely  mad  to  invade  Wurtemberg,  not 
for  any  political  reason ;  she  could  no  more  have  accounted 
for  any  such  than  the  merest  hind,  but  simply  because,  a  few 
months  before  her  appearance  at  Munich,  she  had  been,  in 
her  opinion,  slighted  by  the  old  king.  The  fact  was,  old 
William,  sincerely  attached  to  Amalia  Stubenrauch,  the  ac- 
tress, had  not  fallen  a  victim  to  Lola  Montes'  charms,  and 
had  taken  little  or  no  notice  of  her.  The  contemplated  in- 
vasion of  Wurtemberg  was  an  act  of  private  revenge.  But 
mad  as  she  was,  there  was  some  one  more  mad  still — King 
Louis  I.  of  Bavaria. 

"  The  most  ill-advised  thing  she  did,  perhaps,  was  to 
change  her  supporters.  Like  the  ignorant,  overbearing  wom- 
an she  was,  she  wo'uld  not  consent  to  share  her  power  over 
the  king  with  the  Jesuits ;  she  tried  to  form  an  opposition 
against  them  among  the  students  at  the  University,  and  she 
succeeded  to  a  certain  extent.  These  adherents  constituted 
the  nucleus  of  a  corps  which  soon  became  known  under  the 
title  of  '  Allemanen.  But  the  more  noble-minded  and  patri- 
otic youths  at  the  Munich  University  virtually  ostracized  the 
latter,  and  several  minor  disturbances  had  already  broken 
out  in  consequence  of  this,  when,  in  the  beginning  of  Febru- 
ary, '48,  a  more  than  usually  serious  manifestation  against 
'  Lola's  creatures,'  as  they  were  called,  took  place.  The  wom- 
an did  not  lack  pluck,  and  she  insisted  upon  defying  the 
rioters  by  herself.  But  they  proved  too  much  for  her ;  and, 
after  all,  she  was  a  woman.  She  endeavoured  to  escape  from 
their  violence,  but  every  house  was  shut  against  her ;  the 
Swiss  on  guard  at  the  Austrian  Embassy  refused  her  shelter. 
A  most  painful  scene  happened ;  the  king  himself,  the  mo- 


THE  REVOLUTION  AT  MUNICH.  109 

ment  the  news  reached  him,  rushed  to  her  rescue,  and,  hav- 
ing elbowed  his  way  through  the  threatening,  yelling  crowd, 
offered  her  his  arm,  and  conducted  her  to  the  church  of  the 
Theatines,  hard  by.  As  a  matter  of  course,  several  officers 
had  joined  him,  and  all  might  have  been  well,  if  she  had 
taken  the  lesson  to  heart.  But  her  violent,  domineering, 
vindictive  temper  got  the  better  of  her.  No  sooner  did  she 
find  herself  in  comparative  safety,  than,  emboldened  by  the 
presence  of  the  officers,  she  snatched  a  pistol  from  one  of 
them,  and,  armed  with  it,  leapt  out  of  the  building,  confront- 
ing the  crowd,  and  threatening  to  fire.  Heaven  alone  knows 
what  would  have  been  the  result  of  this  mad  act,  but  for  the 
timely  arrival  of  a  squadron  of  cuirassiers,  who  covered  her 
retreat. 

"  The  excitement  might  have  died  out  in  a  week  or  a  fort- 
night, though  the  year  '48  was  scarcely  a  propitious  one  for 
a  display  of  such  quasi-feudal  defiance,  if  she  had  merely  been 
content  to  forego  the  revenge  for  the  insults  she  herself  had 
provoked ;  but  on  the  10th  of  February  she  prevailed  upon  the 
king  to  issue  a  decree,  closing  the  University  for  a  twelve- 
month. The  smouldering  fire  of  resentment  against  her  con- 
stant interference  in  the  affairs  of  the  country  blazed  forth 
once  more,  and  this  time  with  greater  violence  than  ever. 
The  working  men,  nay,  the  commercial  middle  classes, 
hitherto  indifferent  to  the  king's  vagaries,  which,  after  all, 
brought  grist  to  their  mill,  espoused  the  students'  cause. 
Barricades  were  erected ;  the  cry  was  not  '  Long  live  the 
Constitution,'  or  '  Long  live  the  Republic,'  but  '  Down  with 
the  concubine.'  It  was  impossible  to  mistake  the  drift  of 
that  insurrection,  but,  in  order  to  leave  no  doubt  about  it  in 
the  sovereign's  mind,  a  deputation  of  the  municipal  council 
and  one  of  the  Upper  House  waited  upon  Louis,  and  insisted 
upon  the  dismissal  of  Lola  Montes,  who,  in  less  than  an  hour, 
left  Munich,  escorted  by  a  troop  of  gendarmes,  who,  however, 
had  all  their  work  to  do  to  prevent  her  from  being  torn  to 
pieces  by  the  mob.  Her  departure  was  the  signal  for  the  pil- 
laging of  her  mansion,  at  which  the  king  looked  on — as  he 
thought — incognito.  It  is  difficult  to  determine  what  prompt- 
ed him  to  commit  so  rash  an  act.  Was  it  a  feeling  of  relief  at 
having  got  rid  of  her — for  there  was  a  good  deal  of  cynicism 
about  that  semi-philosophical,  semi-mystical  troubadour — 
or  a  desire  to  chew  the  cud  of  his  vanished  happiness? 
Whatever  may  have  been   the   reason,   he   paid   dearly  for 


110  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

it,  for  some  one  smashed  a  looking-glass  over  his  head, 
and  he  was  carried  back  to  the  palace,  unconscious,  and 
bleeding  profusely.  It  was  never  ascertained  who  inflicted 
the  wounds,  though  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  assailant 
knew  his  victim.  Meanwhile  Lola  Montes  had  succeeded 
in  slipping  away  from  her  escort,  and  three  hours  later  she 
re-entered  Munich  disguised,  and  endeavoured  to  make  her 
way  to  the  palace.  But  the  latter  was  carefully  guarded, 
and  for  the  next  month  all  her  attempts  in  that  direction 
proved  fruitless,  though,  audacious  as  she  was,  she  did  not 
dare  stop  for  a  single  night  in  the  capital  itself.  Besides, 
I  do  not  believe  that  a  single  inhabitant  would  have 
given  her  shelter.  Unlike  a  good  many  royal  favourites 
of  the  past,  she  had  no  personal  adherents,  no  faithful 
servants  who  would  have  stood  by  her  through  thick  and 
thin,  because  she  never  treated  any  one  kindly  in  the  days 
of  her  prosperity :  she  could  only  bribe ;  she  was  incapable 
of  inspiring  disinterested  affection  among  those  who  were 
insensible  to  the  spell  of  her  marvellous  beauty." 

So  far  the  narrative  of  my  informant.  The  rest  is  pretty 
well  known  by  everybody.  A  few  years  later,  she  committed 
bigamy  with  another  English  officer,  named  Heald,  who  was 
drowned  at  Lisbon  about  the  same  time  that  her  real  husband 
died.  Alexandre  Dumas  was  right — she  brought  ill-luck  to 
those  who  attached  themselves  to  her  for  any  length  of  time, 
whether  in  the  guise  of  lovers  or  husbands. 

These  notes  about  Lola  Montes  remind  me  of  another 
woman  whom  public  opinion  would  place  in  the  same  cate- 
gory, though  she  vastly  differed  in  character.  I  am  alluding 
to  Alphonsine  Plessis,  better  known  to  the  world  at  large  as 
"  La  Dame  aux  Camelias."  I  frequently  met  her  in  the  so- 
ciety of  some  of  my  friends  between  '43  and  '47,  the  year  of 
her  death.  Her  name  was  as  I  have  written  it,  and  not  Marie 
or  Marguerite  Duplessis,  as  has  been  written  since. 

The  world  at  large,  and  especially  the  English,  have  al- 
ways made  very  serious  mistakes,  both  with  regard  to  the 
heroine  of  the  younger  Dumas'  novel  and  play,  and  the  au- 
thor himself.  They  have  taxed  him  with  having  chosen  an 
unworthy  subject,  and,  by  idealizing  it,  taught  a  lesson  of 
vice  instead  of  virtue ;  they  have  taken  it  for  granted  that 
Alphonsine  Plessis  was  no  better  than  her  kind.  She  was 
much  better  than  that,  though  probably  not  sufficiently  good 
to  take  a  housemaid's  place  and  be  obedient  to  her  pastors 


"LA  DAME  AUX  CAMELIAS."  m 

and  masters,  to  slave  from  mom  till  night  for  a  mere  pit- 
tance, in  addition  to  her  virtue,  which  was  ultimately  to 
prove  its  own  reward — the  latter  to  consist  of  a  home  of  her 
own,  with  a  lot  of  squalling  brats  about  her,  where  she  would 
have  had  to  slave  as  she  had  slaved  before,  without  the 
monthly  pittances  hitherto  doled  out  to  her.  She  was  not 
sufficiently  good  to  see  her  marvellously  beautiful  face,  her 
matchless  graceful  figure  set  off  by  a  cambric  cap  and  a  calico 
gown,  instead  of  having  the  first  enhanced  by  the  gleam  of 
priceless  jewels  in  her  hair  and  the  second  wrapped  in  soft 
laces  and  velvets  and  satins ;  but,  for  all  that,  she  was  not  the 
common  courtesan  the  goody-goody  people  have  thought  fit 
to  proclaim  her — the  common  courtesan,  who,  according  to 
these  goody-goody  people,  would  have  descended  to  her  grave 
forgotten,  but  for  the  misplaced  enthusiasm  of  a  poetical 
young  man,  who  was  himself  corrupted  by  the  atmosphere 
in  which  he  was  born  and  lived  afterguards. 

The  sober  fact  is  that  Dumas  fils  did  not  idealize  anything 
at  all,  and,  least  of  all,  Alphonsine  Plessis'  character.  Though 
very  young  at  the  time  of  her  death,  he  was  then  already  much 
more  of  a  philosopher  than  a  poet.  He  had  not  seen  half  as 
much  of  Alphonsine  Duplessis  during  her  life  as  is  commonly 
supposed,  and  the  first  idea  of  the  novel  was  probably  sug- 
gested to  him,  not  by  his  acquaintance  with  her,  but  by  the 
sensation  her  death  caused  among  the  Paris  public,  the  female 
part  of  which — almost  without  distinction — went  to  look  at 
her  apartment,  to  appraise  her  jewels  and  dresses,  etc.  "  They 
would  probably  like  to  have  had  them  on  the  same  terms," 
said  a  terrible  cynic.  The  remark  must  have  struck  young 
Dumas,  in  whose  hearing  it  was  said,  or  who,  at  any  rate,  had 
it  reported  to  him ;  for  if  we  carefully  look  at  all  his  earlier 
plays,  we  find  the  spirit  of  that  remark  largely  pervading 
them. 

Alphonsine  Plessis  had  probably  learned  even  less  in  her 
girlhood  than  Lola  Montes,  but  she  had  a  natural  tact,  and 
an  instinctive  refinement  which  no  education  could  have  en- 
hanced. She  never  made  grammatical  mistakes,  no  coarse 
expression  ever  passed  her  lips.  Lola  Montes  could  not  make 
friends;  Alphonsine  Plessis  could  not  make  enemies.  She 
never  became  riotous  like  the  other,  not  even  boisterous ;  for 
amidst  the  most  animated  scenes  she  was  haunted  by  the  sure 
knowledge  that  she  would  die  young,  and  life,  but  for  that 
knowledge,  would  have  been  very  sweet  to  her.     Amidst  these 


112  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

scenes,  she  would  often  sit  and  chat  to  me :  she  liked  me,  be- 
cause I  never  paid  her  many  compliments,  although  I  was 
but  six  years  older  than  the  most  courted  woman  of  her  time. 
The  story  of  her  being  provided  for  by  a  foreign  nobleman 
because  she  was  so  like  his  deceased  daughter,  was  not  a  piece 
of  fiction  on  Dumas'  part ;  it  was  a  positive  fact.  Alphonsine 
Plessis,  after  this  provision  was  made  for  her,  might  have  led 
the  most  retired  existence ;  she  might,  like  so  many  demi- 
mondaines  have  done  since,  bought  herself  a  country-house, 
re-entered  "  the  paths  of  respectability,"  have  had  a  pew  in 
the  parish  church,  been  in  constant  communication  with  the 
vicar,  prolonged  her  life  by  several  years,  and  died  in  the 
odour  of  sanctity :  but,  notwithstanding  her  desperate  desire 
to  live,  her  very  nature  revolted  at  such  self-exile.  When 
Alexandre  Dumas  read  the  "  Dame  aux  Camelias "  to  his 
father,  the  latter  wept  like  a  baby,  but  his  tears  did  not  drown 
the  critical  faculty.  "  At  the  beginning  of  the  third  act,"  he 
said  afterwards,  "  I  was  wondering  how  Alexandre  would  get 
his  Marguerite  back  to  town  without  lowering  her  in  the  es- 
timation of  the  spectator.  Because,  if  such  a  woman  as  he 
depicted  was  to  remain  true  to  nature — to  her  nature — and 
consequently  able  to  stand  the  test  of  psychological  analysis, 
she  could  not  have  borne  more  than  two  or  three  months  of 
such  retirement.  This  does  not  mean  that  she  would  have 
severed  her  connection  with  Armand  Duval,  but  he  would 
have  become  '  un  plat  dans  le  menu '  after  a  little  while, 
nothing  more.  The  way  Alexandre  got  out  of  the  difficulty 
proves  that  he  is  my  son  every  inch  of  him,  and  that,  at  the 
very  outset  of  his  career,  he  is  a  better  dramatist  than  I  am 
ever  likely  to  be.  But  depend  upon  it,  that  if,  in  real  life 
and  with  such  a  woman,  le  pere  Duval  had  not  interfered, 
la  belle  Marguerite  would  have  taken  the  '  key  of  the  street ' 
on  some  pretext — and  that,  notwithstanding  the  sale  of  her 
carriages,  the  pledging  of  her  diamonds  and  her  furs — in 
order  not  to  worry  the  man  she  loved,  for  the  time  being, 
with  money  matters.  Honestly  speaking,  it  wanted  my  son's 
cleverness  to  make  a  piece  out  of  Alphonsine  Plessis'  life. 
True,  he  was  fortunate  in  that  she  died,  which  left  him  free 
to  ascribe  that  death  to  any  cause  but  the  right  one,  namely, 
consumption.  I  know  that  he  made  use  of  it,  but  he  took 
care  to  show  the  malady  aggravated  by  Armand  Duval's  de- 
sertion of  her,  and  this  is  the  only  liberty  he  took  with  the 
psychological,  consequently  scientific  and  logical,  develop- 


THE  GENEALOGY  OP  «LA  DAME  AUX  CAMf]LIAS."  113 

ment  of  the  play.  People  have  compared  his  Marguerite 
Gautier  to  Manon  Lescaut,  to  Marion  Delorme,  and  so  forth  : 
it  just  shows  wliat  they  know  about  it.  They  might  just  as 
well  compare  Thiers  to  Cromwell.  Manon  Lescaut,  Marion 
Delorme,  Cromwell,  knew  what  they  wanted :  Marguerite 
Gautier  and  Thiers  do  not;  both  are  always  in  search  of 
rinco7inu,  the  one  in  experimental  politics,  the  other  in  ex- 
perimental love-making.  Still,  my  son  has  been  true  to  Na- 
ture ;  but  he  has  taken  an  episode  showing  her  at  her  best. 
He  was  not  bound  to  let  the  public  know  that  the  frequent 
recurrence  of  these  love  episodes,  but  always  with  a  different 
partner,  constitutes  a  disease  which  is  as  well  known  to  spe- 
cialists as  the  disease  of  drunkenness,  and  for  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  find  a  cure.  Messalina,  Catherine  II.,  and  thou- 
sands of  women  have  suffered  from  it.  When  they  happen 
to  be  born  in  such  exalted  stations  as  these  two,  they  buy 
men ;  when  they  happen  to  be  born  in  a  lowly  station  and 
are  attractive,  they  sell  themselves ;  when  they  are  ugly  and 
repulsive  they  sink  to  the  lowest  depths  of  degradation,  or 
end  in  the  padded  cells  of  a  mad-house,  where  no  man  dares 
come  near  them.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  the  malady  is  heredi- 
tary, and  I  am  certain  that  if  we  could  trace  the  genealogy 
of  Alphonsine  Plessis,  we  should  find  the  taint  either  on  the 
father's  side  or  on  the  mother's,  probably  on  the  former's, 
but  more  probably  still  on  both."  * 

*  The  following  is  virtually  a  summary  of  an  article  by  Count  G.  de 
Contades,  in  a  French  biblioorraphical  perioaical,  Ze  Livre  (Dec.  10, 1885),  and 
shows  how  near  Alexandre  Dumas  was  to  the  truth.  I  have  given  it  at  great 
length.  My  excuse  for  so  doing  is  the  extraordinary  popularity  of  Dumas'  play 
with  all  classes  of  playgoers.  As  a  consequence,  there  is  not  a  single  modem 
play,  with  the  exception  of  those  of  Shakespeare,  the  genesis  of  which  has 
been  so  much  commented  upon.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  most  edu- 
cated playgoers,  not  to  mention  professional  students  of  the  drama,  have  at 
some  time  or  other  expressed  a  wish  to  know  something  more  of  the  real 
Marguerite  Gautier's  parentage  and  antecedents  than  is  shown  by  Dumas, 
either  in  his  play  or  in  his  novel,  or  than  what  they  could  gather  from  the 
partly  apocrvpnal  details  given  by  her  contemporaries.  Dumas  himself,  in  his 
preface  to  the  play,  says  that  she  was  a  farm  servant.  He  probably  knew  no 
more  than  that,  nor  did  Alphonsine  Plessis  herself.  In  after-years,  the  eminent 
dramatist  had  neither  the  time  nor  the  inclination  to  search  musty  parish 
registers ;  Count  de  Contades  has  done  so  for  him.  Here  are  the  results,  as 
briefly  as  possible,  of  his  researches.  Alphonsine  Plessis'  paternal  grand- 
mother, "  moitie  mendiante  et  moitie  prostituee,"  inhabited,  a  little  less  than  a 
century  ago,  the  small  parish  of  Long4-sur-Maire,  which  has  since  become 
simply  Longe  in  the  canton  of  Briouze,  arrondissement  of  Argentan  (about 
thirty  miles  from  Alen^on).  She  had  been  nicknamed  "  La  Guenuchetonne," 
a  rustic  version  of  the  archaic  French  word  guenijppe  (slattern).  Louis  Descours, 
a  kind  of  country  clod  who  had  entered  the  priesthood  without  the  least  voca- 


114  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

There  were  few  of  us  who,  during  Alphonsine  Plessis' 
lifetime,  were  so  interested  in  her  as  to  have  gone  to  the 
length  of  such  a  psychological  analysis  of  her  pedigree. 
Nevertheless,  most  men  were  agreed  that  she  was  no  ordi- 


tion,  and  just  because  his  people  wished  him  to  do  so,  becomes  enamoured  of 
"  La  Guenuchetonne,"  and  earlv  in  January,  1790,  the  cure  Philippe  cliristens  a 
male  child,  which  is  registered  as  Marin  "Plessis,  mother  Louis- Kence  Plessis, 
father  unknown.  That  the  father  was  known  well  enough  is  proved  by  the 
Christian  name  bestowed  upon  the  babe,  Marin,  which  was  that  of  Louis 
Descours'  father.  This  gallant  adventure  of  the  country  priest  was  an  open 
secret  for  miles  around. 

Marin  Plessis  grew  into  a  handsome  fellow,  and  when  about  twenty  took  to 
travelling  in  the  adjacent  provinces  of  lower  and  upper  Normandy  with  a  pack 
of  smallwares.  Handsome  and  amiable  besides,  he  was  a  welcome  guest  every- 
where, and  soon  became  a  great  favourite  with  the  female  part  of  the  Nonnandy 
peasantry.  For  a  little  while  he  flitted  from  one  rustic  beauty  to  another,  until 
he  was  fairly  caught  by  one  more  handsome  than  the  rest,  Marie  Deshayes. 
She  was  not.,  perhaps,  immaculately  virtuous,  but,  apart  from  her  extraordinary 
personal  attractions,  she  was  something  more  than  an  ordinary  peasant  girl. 

Some  sixty  j^ears  before  Marin  Plessis'  union  with  Marie  Deshayes,  there 
lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Evreux  a  spinster  lady  of  good  descent,  though 
not  very  well  provided  with  worldly  goods.  She  was  comely  and  sweet-tem- 
pered enough,  but  then,  as  now,  comelmess  and  a  sweet  temper  do  not  count 
for  much  in  the  French  matrimonial  market,  and  least  of  all  in  the  provincial 
one.  Owing  to  the  modesty  of  her  marriage  portion,  she  had  no  suitors  for  her 
hand,  and,  oeing  of  an  exceedingly  amorous  disposition,  she  bestowed  her 
affection  where  she  could,  "  without  regret,  and  without  false  shame,"  as  the 
old  French  chronicler  has  it. 

The  annals  of  the  village — for,  curiously  enough,  these  annals  do  exist, 
though  only  in  manuscripts — are  commendably  reticent  about  the  exact  num- 
ber and  names  of  her  lovers.  It  would  seem  that  the  author,  a  contemporary 
of  Mdlle.  Aime  du  Mesnil  d'Argentelles  and  the  great-grandfather  of  the  pres- 
ent possessor  of  the  notes,  a  gentleman  near  Bernav,  was  divided  between  the 
wish  of  not  being  too  hard  upon  his  neighbour,  wno  was,  after  all,  a  gentle- 
woman, and  the  desire  to  leave  a  record  of  a  peculiar  phase  of  the  country 
manners  of  those  days  to  posterity.  Be  this  as  it  may,  Mdlle.  d'Argentelles' 
swains,  previous  to  the  very  last  one,  have  been  doomed  to  anonymous  ob- 
scurity. But  with  the  advent  of  Etienne  Deshayes,  the  annalist  becomes  less 
reticent,  he  is  considered  worthy  of  being  mentioned  in  full,  perhaps  as  a  re- 
ward for  having  finally  "  made  an  honest  woman  "  of  his  inamorata.  For  that 
is  the  final  upshot  of  the  love-story  between  him  and  Mdlle.  d'Argentelles, 
which,  in  its  earlier  stages,  bears  a  certain  resemblance  to  that  between  Jean- 
Jacques  Kousseau  and  Madame  de  Warens,  with  this  difference — that  the  Kor- 
mand  Jean-Jacques  is  considerably  older  than  his  mistress. 

The  children  bom  of  this  marriage  were  very  numerous.  One  of  them, 
Louis-Deshayes,  married  a  handsome  peasant  girl,  Marie-Madeleine  Marra, 
who  appears  to  have  been  somewhat  too  intimate  with  a  neighbouring  squire, 
but  who  gave  birth  a  few  years  after  to  a  daughter,  of  whose  paternity  there 
could  not  be  the  smallest  doubt,  seeing  that  she  grew  up  into  a  speaking  like- 
ness of  her  maternal  grandmother,  the  erstwhile  Mdlle.  Anne  du  Mesnil 
d'Argentelles.  Fate  ought  to  have  had  a  better  lot  in  store  for  beautiful  Marie 
Deshayes  than  a  marriage  with  a  poor  pedlar  like  Marin  Plessis :  but  the  latter 
was  very  handsome,  and,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  tne  family,  she 
became  liis  wife.  On  the  loth  of  January,  1824,  the  child  which  was  to  be  im- 
mortalized as  "  La  Dame  aux  Camelias  "  saw  the  light,  in  a  small  village  in 
Lower  Normandy. — Editob. 


THE  REAL  ALPHONSINE  PLESSIS.  US 

nary  girl.  Her  candour  about  her  early  want  of  education 
increased  the  interest.  "  Twenty  or  twenty-five  years  ago," 
said  Dr.  Veron,  one  day,  after  Alphonsine  Plessis  had  left 
the  dinner  table,  "a  woman  of  her  refinement  would  not 
have  been  phenomenal  in  her  position,  because  at  that  period 
the  grisette,  promoted  to  the  rank  of  femme  entretenue,  had 
not  made  her  appearance.  The  expression  'femme  entre- 
tenue '  was  not  even  known.  Men  chose  their  companions, 
outside  marriage,  from  a  different  class ;  they  were  generally 
Avomen  of  education  and  often  of  good  family  who  had  made 
a  faux  pas,  and,  as  such,  forfeited  the  society  and  counte- 
nance of  their  equals  who  had  not  stumbled  in  that  way,  at 
any  rate  not  in  the  sight  of  the  Avorld.  I  confess,  Alphon- 
sine Plessis  interests  me  very  much.  She  is,  first  of  all,  the 
best-dressed  woman  in  Paris ;  secondly,  she  neither  flaunts 
nor  hides  her  vices;  thirdly,  she  is  not  always  talking  or 
hinting  about  money ;  in  short,  she  is  a  wonderful  courte- 
san." 

The  result  of  all  this  admiration  was  very  favourable  to 
Alexandre  Dumas  fils  when  he  brought  out  his  book  about 
eighteen  months  after  her  death.  It  was  in  every  one's 
hands,  and  the  press  kept  whetting  the  curiosity  of  those 
who  had  not  read  it  as  yet  with  personal  anecdotes  about  the 
heroine.  In  addition  to  this,  the  title  was  a  very  taking  one, 
and,  moreover,  absolutely  new ;  for,  though  it  was  obvious 
enough  from  Alphonsine  Plessis'  habit  of  wearing  white 
camellias  the  greater  part  of  the  year,  no  one  had  ever 
thought  of  applying  it  to  her  while  she  was  alive ;  hence, 
the  credit  of  its  invention  belongs  decidedly  to  Dumas /fe. 

I  may  return  to  the  subject  of  "  La  Dame  aux  Camelias  " 
in  connection  with  the  play ;  meanwhile,  I  will  say  a  few 
words  of  the  only  man  among  our  set  who  objected  to  the 
title,  "  because  it  injures  my  own,"  as  he  put  it ;  namely,  M. 
Lautour-Mezerai,  who  had  been  surnamed  "  L'Homme  au 
Camellia ; "  in  the  singular,  from  his  habit  of  never  appear- 
ing in  public  without  that  flower  in  his  button-hole.  And 
be  it  remembered  that  in  those  days,  the  flower  was  much 
more  rare  than  it  is  at  present,  and  consequently  very  expen- 
sive. The  plagiarist,  if  there  was  one,  must  have  been 
Alphonsine  Plessis,  for  Dr.  Veron,  who  was  one  of  his  oldest 
friends,  did  not  remember  having  ever  seen  him  minus  the 
camellia,  and  theii  friendship  dated  from  the  year  1831.  It 
is  computed  that  during  the  nineteen  years  Mezerai  was  in 


116  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Paris,  previous  to  his  departure  for  tlie  South  of  France  and 
afterwards  for  Algeria,  in  both  of  which  provinces  he  fulfilled 
the  functions  of  prefect,  he  must  have  spent  no  less  than 
fifty  thousand  francs  on  his  favourite  floral  ornament,  for  he 
frequently  changed  it  twice  a  day,  and  its  price,  especially 
in  the  thirties  and  earlier  part  of  the  forties,  was  not  less 
than  five  francs.  It  is,  therefore,  not  surprising  that  he  re- 
sented the  usurpation  of  his  title.  M.  Lautour-Alezerai  was 
one  of  the  most  elegant  men  I  knew.  He  not  only  belonged 
to  a  very  good  provincial  stock,  but  his  family  on  both  sides 
counted  some  eminent  names  in  literature.*  He  was  a  most 
charming  companion,  exceedingly  generous;  but  he  would 
not  have  parted  with  the  flower  in  his  button-hole  for  any 
consideration,  not  even  to  oblige  his  greatest  friend,  male  or 
female.  It  was  more  than  an  ornament  to  him,  he  looked 
upon  it  as  a  talisman.  He  always  occupied  the  same  place 
at  the  Opera,  in  the  balcony,  or  what  we  call  the  "  dress- 
circle,"  and  many  a  covetous  glance  from  the  brightest  eyes 
was  cast  at  the  dazzling  white  camellia,  standing  out  in  bold 
relief  against  the  dark  blue  coat,  but  neither  glances  nor 
direct  requests  had  any  effect  upon  him.  He  became  abso- 
lutely savage  in  his  refusal  when  too  hardly  pressed,  because, 
by  his  own  admission,  he  was  superstitious  enough  to  believe 
that,  if  he  went  home  without  it,  something  terrible  would 
happen  to  him  during  the  night. 

M.  Lautour-Mezerai  was,  however,  something  more  than 
a  mere  man  of  fashion.  To  him  belongs  the  credit  of  hav- 
ing founded — at  any  rate  in  France — the  children's  periodi- 
cal. For  the  comparatively  small  subscription  of  six  francs 
per  annum,  thousands  of  little  ones  received  every  month  a 
number  of  the  Journal  des  Bnfants,  stitched  in  blue  paper, 
and  with  their  own  name  on  the  wrapper.  It  flattered  their 
pride  to  be  treated  like  their  elders  by  having  their  literature 
despatched  to  them  in  that  way,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that 
this  ingenious  device  contributed,  to  a  certain  extent,  to  the 
primary  and  enormous  success  of  the  undertaking.  But  M. 
Lautour-Mezerai  was  too  refined  a  litterateur  to  depend  upon 
such  a  mere  trick,  and  a  look  at  even  the  earlier  numbers  of 
the  Journal  des  Enfants^  would  prove  conclusively  that,  in 
the  way  of  amusing  children  while  instructing  them  a  little, 

*  Curiously  enough,  he  belonged  to  the  same  department,  and  died  almost 
on  the  very  spot  where  Marin  Plessis  was  bom. — Editor. 


A  THEATRICAL  MANAGER.  II7 

nothing  better  lias  been  done  since,  whether  in  France,  Eng- 
land, or  Germany.  The  editor  and  manager  succeeded  in 
grouping  around  him  such  men  as  Paul  Lacroix  {le  bibliophile 
Jacob)  and  Charles  Nodier,  both  of  whom  have  never  been 
surpassed  in  making  history  attractive  to  young  minds. 
Emile  Souvestre,  Leon  Gozlan,  Eugene  Sue,  and  even  Alex- 
andre Dumas  told  them  the  most  wonderful  stories.  The 
men  who  positively  kept  the  adult  population  of  France 
spellbound  by  their  stirring  romances  seemed  to  take  a  de- 
light in  competing  with  women  like  Virginie  Ancelot,  the 
Duchesse  d'Abrantes,  and  others  on  the  latter's  ground.  As 
a  consequence,  it  became  the  fashion  to  present  the  young 
ones  on  New  Year's  Day  with  a  receipt  for  a  twelvemonth's 
subscription,  made  out  in  their  names,  instead  of  the  ever- 
lasting bag  of  sweets.  At  one  time  the  circulation  of  Le 
Journal  des  Enfants  was  computed  at  60,000,  and  M.  Lau- 
tour-Mezerai  was  said  to  make  100,000  francs  per  annum  out 
of  it. 

In  a  former  note,  I  incidentally  mentioned  Auguste 
Lireux.  He  is  scarcely  remembered  by  the  present  genera- 
tion of  Frenchmen ;  I  doubt  whether  there  are  a  hundred 
students  of  French  literature  in  England  who  know  his  name, 
let  alone  his  writings :  yet  he  is  worthy  of  being  remembered 
by  both.  He  had — what  a  great  many  French  writers  of 
talent,  far  greater  than  his  own,  essentially  lack — humour. 
True,  the  latter  was  not  subtle ;  but  it  was  rarely,  if  ever, 
coarse.  The  nearest  approach  to  him  among  the  journalists 
of  the  present  day  is  M.  Francisque  Sarcey ;  but  the  eminent 
dramatic  critic  has  had  a  better  education.  Nevertheless,  if 
Lireux  had  finished  as  he  began,  he  would  not  be  so  entirely 
forgotten.  Unfortunately  for  his  fame,  if  not  for  his  ma- 
terial welfare,  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  become  a  million- 
naire,  and  he  almost  succeeded ;  at  any  rate,  he  died  very 
well  off,  in  a  beautiful  villa  at  Bougival. 

I  remember  meeting  with  Lireux  almost  immediately  after 
he  landed  in  Paris,  at  the  end  of  '40  or  the  beginning  of  '41. 
He  came,  I  believe,  from  Rouen ;  though,  but  for  his  accent, 
he  might  have  come  from  Marseilles.  Tall,  well-built,  with 
brown  hair  and  beard  and  ruddy  complexion,  a  pair  of  bright 
eyes  behind  a  pair  of  golden  spectacles,  very  badly  dressed, 
though  his  clothes  were  almost  new,  very  loud  and  very  rest- 
less, his  broad-brimmed  hat  cocked  on  one  side,  he  gave  one 
the  impression  of  what  in  Paris  we  used  to  call  a  "  departe- 


lis  AN  ENGLISHMAN    IN  PARIS. 

mental  oracle."  He  was  that  to  a  certain  extent,  still  he  was 
not  really  pompous,  and  the  feeling  of  discomfort  one  experi- 
enced at  first  soon  wore  off.  He  was  not  altogether  unknown 
among  the  better  class  of  journalists  in  the  capital,  for  it  ap- 
pears that  he  frequently  contributed  to  the  Paris  papers  from 
the  provinces.  He  had  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  French  drama 
theoretically,  for  he  had  never  written  a  piece,  and  openly 
stated  his  intention  never  to  do  so.  But  in  virtue  of  his  dra- 
matic criticisms  in  several  periodicals — which,  in  spite  of  the 
difference  in  education  between  the  two  men,  read  uncom- 
monly like  the  articles  of  M.  Sarcey  in  the  Temps — and  his 
unwavering  faith  in  his  lucky  star,  he  considered  himself  des- 
tined not  only  to  lift  the  Odeon  from  the  slough  in  which  it 
had  sunk,  but  to  make  it  a  formidable  rival  to  the  house  in 
the  Rue  de  Richelieu.  He  had  no  ambition  beyond  that.  The 
Odeon  was  really  at  its  lowest  depth  Harel  had  enjoyed  a 
subsidy  of  130,000  francs,  M.  d'Epagny  eleven  years  later  had 
to  content  himself  with  less  than  half,  and  yet  the  authorities 
were  fully  cognizant  of  the  necessity  of  a  second  Theatre- 
Francjais.  Whether  from  incapacity  or  ill-luck,  M.  d'Epagny 
did  not  succeed  in  bringing  back  the  public  to  the  old  house. 
The  direction  was  offered  then  to  M.  Hippolyte  Lucas,  the 
dramatic  critic  of  Le  Siecle,  and  one  of  the  best  English  schol- 
ars I  have  ever  met  with  among  the  French,  and,  on  his  de- 
clining the  responsibility,  given  to  Lireux,  who  for  the  sake 
of  making  a  point,  exclaimed,  "  Directeur !  .  .  .  au  refus 
d'Hippolyte  Lucas  ! "  * 

It  was  a  piece  of  bad  taste  on  Lireux's  part,  because  M. 
Lucas  was  his  superior  in  every  respect,  though  he  would 
probably  have  failed  where  the  other  succeeded — at  least  for 
a  while.  Save  for  this  mania  of  saying  smart  things  in  and 
out  of  season,  Lireux  was  really  a  good-natured  fellow,  and 
we  were  all  glad  that  he  had  realized  his  ambition.  The  vent- 
ure looked  promising  enough  at  the  start.  He  got  an  excel- 
lent company  together,  comprising  Bocage,  Monrose,  Gil- 
Peres,  Maubant,  Mdlles.  Georges  and  Araldi,  Madame  Dorval, 
etc. ;  and  if,  like  young  Bonaparte's  troops,  they  were  badly 
paid  and  wanted  for  everything,  they  worked  with  a  will,  be- 
cause, like  Bonaparte,  Lireux  inspired  them  with  confidence. 
He,  on  the  other  hand,  knew  their  value,  and  on  no  pretext 

*  An  imitation  of  the  line  of  Don  Carlos  in  Hugo's  "  Hernaui " :  "  Empe- 
reur !  .  .  .  au  refus  de  Fred^ric-le-Sage  I "  — Editor. 


LIREUX  AND  HIS  PATRONS.  119 

■would  allow  them  to  be  ousted  from  the  positions  they  had 
honourably  won  by  their  talents  and  hard  work.  Presump- 
tuous mediocrity,  backed  either  by  influence  or  intrigue,  found 
him  a  stern  adversary ;  the  intriguer  got  his  answer  in  such  a 
way  as  to  prevent  him  from  returning  to  the  charge.  One 
day  an  actor  of  reputed  incapacity,  Machanette,  claimed  the 
title-role  in  Moliere's  "  Misanthrope." 

"  You  have  no  one  else  to  play  Alceste,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  have.  I  have  got  one  of  the  checktakers,"  re- 
plied Lireux. 

Augusta  Lireux  was  one  of  those  managers  the  race  of 
which  began  with  Harel  at  the  Porte  Saint-Martin  and  Dr. 
Veron  at  the  Opera.  Duponchel,  at  the  latter  house,  Mon- 
tigny  at  the  Oymnase,  Buloz  and  Arsene  Houssaye  at  the 
Comedie-Pran9aise,  endeavoured  as  far  as  possible  to  follow 
their  traditions  of  liberality  towards  the  public  and  their 
artists,  and  encouragement  given  to  untried  dramatists.  It 
was  not  Lireux's  fault  that  he  did  not  succeed  for  any  length 
of  time.  Of  course,  there  is  a  ridiculous  side  to  everything. 
During  the  terrible  cholera  visitation  of  1832,  Harel  pub- 
lished a  kind  of  statistics,  showing  that  not  a  single  one  of 
the  spectators  had  been  attacked  by  the  plague ;  but  all  this 
cannot  blind  us  to  the  support  given  to  the  struggling  play- 
wright, Dumas,  in  the  early  part  of  his  career.  During  the 
winter  of  1841-'42,  which  was  a  severe  one,  Lireux  sent  foot- 
warmers  to  the  rare  audience  that  patronized  him  on  a  bit- 
terly cold  night,  "when  tragedy  still  further  chills  the 
house  " ;  the  little  bit  of  charlatanism  cannot  disturb  the  fact 
of  his  having  given  one  of  the  foremost  dramatists  of  the  day 
a  chance  with  "  La  Cigue."  I  am  alluding  to  the  first  piece 
of  Emile  Augier. 

•This  kind  of  thing  tells  with  a  general  public,  more  so 
still  with  a  public  composed  of  generous-minded,  albeit  some- 
what riotous  youths  like  those  of  the  Quartier-Latin  in  the 
early  forties.  Gradually  the  latter  found  their  way  to  the 
Odeon,  "  sinon  pour  voir  la  piece,  alors  pour  entendre  Lireux, 
qui  est  tou jours  amusant " ;  which,  in  plain  language,  meant 
that  come  what  may  they  would  endeavour  to  provoke  Lireux 
into  giving  them  a  speech. 

Flattering  as  was  this  resolve  on  their  part  to  Lireux's 
eloquence,  the  means  they  employed  to  encompass  their  end 
would  have  made  the  existence  of  an  ordinary  manager  a  bur- 
den to  him.     But  Lireux  was  not  an  ordinary  manager ;  he 


120  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

possessed  "  the  gift  of  the  gab  "  to  a  marvellous  degree  :  con- 
sequently he  made  it  known  that  he  would  be  happy  at  any 
time  to  address  MM.  les  etudiants  without  putting  them  to 
the  expense  of  apples  and  eggs  on  the  evening  of  the  per- 
formance, and  voice-lozenges  the  next  day,  if  they,  MM.  les 
etudiants,  would  in  return  respect  his  furniture  and  the 
dresses  of  his  actors.  The  arrangement  worked  exceedingly 
well,  and  for  four  years  the  management  and  the  student 
part  of  the  audience  lived  in  the  most  perfect  harmony. 

Lireux  did  more  than  that,  he  forestalled  their  possible 
objections  to  a  doubtful  episode  in  a  play.  I  remember  the 
first  night  of  "  Jeanne  de  Naples."  The  piece  had  dragged 
fearfully.  Lireux  had  made  three  different  speeches  during 
the  evening,  but  he  foresaw  a  riot  at  the  end  of  the  piece 
which  no  eloquence  on  his  part  would  be  able  to  quell.  It 
appears — for  we  only  found  this  out  the  next  day — that  the 
condemned  woman,  previous  to  being  led  to  execution,  had 
to  deliver  a  monologue  of  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two 
hundred  lines.  The  unhappy  queen  had  scarcely  begun, 
when  a  herculean  soldier  rushed  on  the  stage,  took  her  into 
his  arms  and  carried  her  off  by  main  force,  notwithstanding 
her  struggles.  It  was  a  truly  sensational  ending,  and  the 
curtain  fell  amidst  deafening  applause.  It  redeemed  the 
piece ! 

Next  day  Lireux  made  his  appearance  at  Tortoni's  in  the 
afternoon,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  production  of  the 
previous  evening  was  discussed. 

"  I  cannot  understand,"  said  Roger  de  Beauvoir,  "  how  a 
man  with  such  evident  knowledge  of  stagecraft  as  the  author 
displayed  in  that  denoiiment,  could  have  perpetrated  such  an 
enormity  as  the  whole  of  the  previous  acts." 

Lireux  was  fairly  convulsed  with  laughter.  "  Do  you  really 
think  that  was  his  own  invention?"  he  asked. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  was  the  reply. 

"Well,  it  is  not.  His  denoument  was  a  speech  which 
would  have  taken  about  twenty  minutes,  at  the  end  of  which 
the  queen  is  tamely  led  off  between  the  soldiers.  I  know 
what  would  have  been  the  result :  the  students  would  have 
simply  torn  up  the  benches  and  Heaven  knows  what  else. 
You  know  that  if  the  gas  is  left  burning,  if  only  a  moment, 
after  twelve,  there  is  an  extra  charge  irrespective  of  the  quan- 
tity consumed.  I  looked  at  my  watch  when  she  began  to 
speak  her  lines.     It  was  exactly  thirteen  minutes  to  twelve ; 


BALZAC  AGAIN.  121 

she  might  have  managed  to  get  to  the  end  by  twelve,  but  it 
was  doubtful.  What  was  not  doubtful  was  the  row  that  would 
have  ensued,  and  the  time  it  would  have  taken  me  to  cope 
with  it.  My  mind  was  made  up  there  and  then.  I  selected 
the  biggest  of  the  supers,  told  him  to  go  and  fetch  her,  and 
you  know  the  rest." 

There  were  few  theatrical  managers  in  those  days  who 
escaped  the  vigilance  of  Balzac.  Among  the  many  schemes 
he  was  for  ever  hatching  for  benefiting  mankind  and  making 
his  own  fortune,  there  was  one  which  can  not  be  more  fitly 
described  than  in  the  American  term  of  "  making  a  corner  " ; 
only  that  particular  "  corner  "  was  to  be  one  in  plays. 

About  two  years  before  the  advent  of  Lireux,  and  when 
the  house  at  Ville  d'Avray,  of  which  I  have  spoken  elsewhere, 
was  completed,  a  party  of  literary  men  received  an  invitation 
to  spend  the  Sunday  there.  It  was  not  an  ordinary  invita- 
tion, but  a  kind  of  circular-letter,  the  postscriptura  to  which 
contained  the  following  words :  "  M.  de  Balzac  will  make  an 
important  communication."  Leon  Gozlan,  Jules  Sandeau, 
Louis  Desnoyers,  Henri  Monnier,  and  those  familiar  with 
Balzac's  schemes,  knew  pretty  well  what  to  expect ;  and  when 
Lassailly,  one  of  the  four  men  whose  nose  vied  with  the 
legendary  one  of  Bouginier,  confirmed  their  apprehensions 
that  it  was  a  question  of  making  their  fortunes,  they  resigned 
themselves  to  their  fate.  Jules  Sandeau,  who  was  gentleness 
itself,  merely  observed  with  a  sigh  that  it  was  the  fifteenth 
time  Balzac  had  proposed  to  make  him  a  millionnaire ;  Henri 
Monnier  offered  to  sell  his  share  of  the  prospective  profits  for 
7  francs,  50  centimes ;  Leon  Gozlan  suggested  that  their  host 
might  have  discovered  a  diamond  mine,  whereupon  Balzac, 
who  had  just  entered  the  room,  declared  that  a  diamond  mine 
was  nothing  to  it.  He  was  simply  going  to  monopolize  the 
whole  of  the  Paris  theatres.  He  exposed  the  plan  in  a  mag- 
nificent speech  of  two  hours'  duration,  and  would  have  con- 
tinued for  two  hours  more  had  not  one  of  the  guests  reminded 
him  that  it  was  time  for  dinner. 

"  Dinner,"  exclaimed  Balzac  :  "  whv,  I  never  thought  of 
it." 

Luckily  there  was  a  restaurant  near,  and  the  future 
millionnaires  and  their  would-be  benefactor  were  enabled  to 
sit  down  to  "  a  banquet  quite  in  keeping,  not  only  with  the 
magnificent  prospects  just  disclosed  to  them,"  but  with  the 
splendour  actually  surrounding  them,"  as  Mery  expressed  it. 


122  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

For  it  should  be  added  that  the  sumptuous  dwelling 
which  was  to  be,  was  at  that  moment  absolutely  bare  of 
furniture,  save  a  few  deal  chairs  and  tables.  The  garden 
was  a  wilderness,  intersected  by  devious  paths,  sloping  so 
suddenly  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  keep  one's  balance  with- 
out the  aid  of  an  Alpenstock  or  the  large  stones  imbedded  in 
the  soil,  but  only  temporarily,  by  the  considerate  owner. 
One  day,  Dutacq,  the  publisher,  having  missed  his  footing, 
rolled  as  far  as  the  wall  inclosing  the  domain,  without  his 
friends  being  able  to  stop  him. 

The  garden,  like  everything  else  connected  with  the 
schemes  of  Balzac,  was  eventually  to  become  a  gold-mine. 
Part  of  it  was  to  be  built  upon,  and  converted  into  a  dairy  ; 
another  part  was  to  be  devoted  to  the  culture  of  the  pine- 
apple and  the  Malaga  grape,  all  of  which  would  yield  an 
income  of  30,000  francs  annually  "  at  least " — to  borrow 
Balzac's  own  words. 

The  apartments  had  been  furnished  in  the  same  grandiose 
way — theoretically.  The  walls  were,  as  I  have  already  re- 
marked, absolutely  bare,  but  on  their  plaster,  scarcely  dry, 
were  magnificent  inscriptions  of  what  was  to  be.  They  were 
mapped  out  regardless  of  expense.  On  that  facing  the 
north  there  was  a  splendid  piece  of  thirteenth-century 
Flemish  tapestry — in  writing,  of  course,  flanked  by  two 
equally  priceless  pictures  by  Raphael  and  Titian.  Facing 
these,  one  by  Rembrandt,  and,  underneath,  a  couch,  a  couple 
of  arm-chairs,  and  six  ordinary  ones,  Louis  XV.,  and  uphol- 
stered in  Aubusson  tapestry — subjects,  Lafontaine's  Fables. 
Opposite  again,  a  monumental  mantel-piece  in  malachite  (a 
present  of  Czar  Nicholas,  who  had  expressed  his  admiration 
of  Balzac's  novels),  with  bronzes  and  clock  by  De  Gouttieres. 
The  place  on  the  ceiling  was  marked  for  a  chandelier  of 
Venetian  glass,  and  in  the  dining-room  a  square  was  drawn 
on  the  carpetless  floor  for  the  capacious  sideboard,  whereon 
would  be  displayed  "  the  magnificent  family  plate." 

Pending  the  arrival  of  the  furniture,  the  building  of  the 
dairy,  hothouses,  and  vineries,  the  guests  had  to  sit  on  hard 
wooden  chairs,  to  eat  a  vile  dinner,  supplemented,  however, 
by  an  excellent  dessert.  Balzac  was  very  fond  of  fruit,  and 
especially  of  pears,  of  which  he  always  ate  an  enormous 
quantity.  The  wine  was,  as  a  rule,  very  inferior,  but  on  that 
particular  occasion  Balzac's  guests  discovered  that  their 
nost's  imagination  could  even  play  him  more  cruel  tricks  in 


BALZAC'S  VISIONS.  123 

tlie  selection  of  his  vintages  than  it  played  him  in  his  pursuit 
of  financial  schemes  and  the  furnishing  of  his  house. 

When  the  fruit  was  placed  upon  the  table,  Balzac  assumed 
a  most  solemn  air.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to 
give  you  some  Chateau-Lafitte,  such  as  you  have  never  tasted 
— such  as  it  has  been  given  to  few  mortals  to  taste.  I  wish 
you  to  sip  it  carefully — I  might  almost  say  reverently,  be- 
cause the  opportunity  may  not  repeat  itself  in  our  lives." 

Wherewith  the  guests'  glasses  were  filled ;  all  of  them 
made  horrible  faces,  for  it  was  abominable  stuff,  but  one 
more  outspoken  than  the  rest  gave  his  opinion  there  and 
then — 

"  This  may  be  '  Chateau  de  la  Kue  Lafitte,'  but  it  is 
enough  to  give  one  the  colic." 

Any  one  else  but  Balzac  would  have  been  horribly  discon- 
certed ;  he,  on  the  contrary,  did  not  budge.  "  Yes,"  he  said 
proudly,  "you  are  right  in  one  respect;  this  ambrosial 
nectar  comes  in  a  straight  line  from  the  Rue  Lafitte,  for 
it  is  Baron  James  de  Rothschild  who  made  me  a  present  of 
two  barrels,  for  which  I  am  profoundly  grateful.  Drink, 
gentlemen,  drink,  and  be  thankful  also." 

Those  who  would  consider  this  a  clever  piece  of  acting  on 
Balzac's  part,  would  be  greatly  mistaken.  His  imagination 
at  times  affected  his  palate  as  well  as  his  other  organs, 
and  at  that  moment  he  was  under  the  distinct  impression 
that  he  was  offering  his  guests  one  of  the  rarest  vintages  on 
record. 

I  have  endeavoured  hitherto  to  digress  as  little  as  possible 
in  my  recollections,  though  their  very  nature  made  it  diffi- 
cult. In  this  instance,  digression  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  convey  an  idea  of  the  shock  which  would  naturally  result 
from  the  contact  of  two  such  brains  as  those  of  Balzac  and 
Lireux ;  for  it  was  not  long  after  the  young  manager's  ad- 
vent to  the  Odeon  that  Balzac  found  his  way  to  his  sanctum. 
The  play  he  offered  him  was  "  Les  Ressources  de  Quinola." 
Strange  as  it  may  seem  to  us,  even  as  late  as  '42,  Balzac's 
name  as  a  novelist  did  not  rank  first  in  the  list  with  the 
general  public,  still  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  any  young 
manager  would  have  refused  a  stage  play  by  him ;  conse- 
quently, Lireux  accepted  "  Les  Ressources  de  Quinola " 
almost  without  fear.  It  is  not  to  the  purpose  to  say  that  it 
was  a  bad  play,  and  that  he  ought  to  have  known  better ;  it 
has  been  amply  proved  by  now  that  the  most  experienced 


124  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

manager  is  not  infallible ;  but  it  is  a  moot  point  whether  the 
greatest  masterpiece  would  have  succeeded  with  the  tactics 
adopted  by  Balzac  to  insure  its  success.  The  following  may 
appear  like  a  scene  from  a  farcical  comedy ;  I  can  vouch  for 
the  truth  of  every  word  of  it,  because  I  had  it  from  the  lips 
of  Lireux  himself,  who,  after  all,  was  the  heaviest  sufferer  by 
Balzac's  incurable  greed,  or,  to  put  it  as  leniently  as  one  can, 
by  his  constant  chase  after  a  capital  stroke  of  business.  His 
resolve  to  pack  the  house  on  the  first  night  was  not  due  to  a 
desire  to  secure  a  favourable  reception  from  a  friendly  audi- 
ence, but  to  the  determination  to  secure  "  a  lump  sum,"  let 
come  what  might.  In  Balzac  are  found  the  two  contradictory 
traits  of  the  money-grubber  and  the  spendthrift. 

The  scene  alluded  to  just  now,  took  place  when  the  re- 
hearsals were  far  advanced ;  the  author  and  the  manager 
were  discussing  the  invitations  to  be  sent  out,  etc.  All  at 
once  Balzac  declared  that  he  would  have  none  but  Knights 
of  the  Order  of  Saint-Louis  in  the  pit.  "  I  am  agreeable," 
replied  Lireux,  "  provided  you  ferret  them  out."* 

"  I'll  see  to  that,"  said  Balzac.  "  Pray  go  on.  What  is 
the  next  part  of  the  house  ?  " 

"  Orchestra  stalls." 

"  Nothing  but  peers  of  France  there." 

"  But  the  orchestra  stalls  will  not  hold  them  all,  Monsieur 
de  Balzac." 

"  Those  who  cannot  find  room  in  the  house  will  have  to 
stand  in  the  lobbies,"  said  Balzac,  imperturbably. 

"  Stage  boxes  ?  "  continued  Lireux. 

"  They  will  be  reserved  for  the  Court." 

"  Stage  boxes  on  the  first  tier  ?  " 

"  For  the  ambassadors  and  plenipotentiaries." 

"  The  open  boxes  on  the  ground  floor  ?  " 

*  It  shows  that  Lireux  was  not  very  familiar  with  the  royal  edicts  atfecting 
that  order,  and  that  Balzac  himself  exacrgerated  the  social  and  monetary  im- 
portance of  its  wearers.  For,  though  Louis- Philippe  at  his  accession  suppressed 
the  order,  not  less  than  twelve  thousand  new  knights  had  been  created  by  his 
two  immediate  predecessoi-s.  Thej',  the  recently  created  knights,  were  allowed 
to  retain  their  honours  and  pensions ;  but,  even  before  the  fall  of  the  Bourbons, 
the  distinction  had  lost  much  of  its  prestige.  After  the  Battle  of  Navarino, 
Admiral  de  Eigny,  soliciting  rewards  for  his  officers  who  had  distinguished 
themselves,  tacitly  ignored  the  order  of  Saint-Louis  in  favour  of  that  of  the 
Legion  of  Honour.  The  order,  as  founded  by  Louis  XIV.  in  1693j  was  only 
available  to  officers  and  Catholics.  Several  modifications  were  mtroducecl 
afterwards  in  its  statutes.  The  Order  of  Saint-Louis  and  that  of  "  Military 
Merit"  were  the  only  two  recognized  by  the  Constituent  Assembly  of  1789; 
but  the  Convention  suppressed  the  former,  only  leaving  the  latter. — Editor. 


ANGLOPHOBIA   ON   TOE  FRENCH   STAGE.  125 

"  For  the  wives  and  families  of  the  ambassadors." 

"  Upper  circle  ?  "  enumerated  Lireux,  not  a  muscle  of  his 
face  moving. 

"  For  the  deputies  and  grand  officers  of  State." 

"  Third  circle  ?  "  enumerated  Lireux. 

"  The  heads  of  the  great  banking  and  financial  establish- 
ments." 

" The  galleries  and  amphitheatre? " 

"A  carefully  selected,  but  varied,  bourgeoisie,"  wound  up 
Balzac. 

Lireux,  who  was  a  capital  mimic,  re-enacted  the  scene  for 
us  four-and-twenty  hours  after  it  had  been  enacted  in  his 
own  room,  and  while  he  was  still  under  the  impression  that 
it  was  merely  a  huge  Joke  on  Balzac's  part.  He  soon  discov- 
ered, however,  that  the  latter  was  terribly  in  earnest,  when,  a 
few  days  later,  Balzac  claimed  the  whole  of  the  seats  for  the 
first  three  nights,  on  the  penalty  of  withdrawing  his  piece 
there  and  then.  Lireux  foolishly  submitted,  the  box  office 
was  closed ;  every  one  applying  for  tickets  was  referred  to 
Balzac  himself,  or  rather  to  the  shady  individual  who  had 
egged  him  on  to  this  speculation.  The  latter,  at  the  first  ap- 
plication, had  run  up  the  prices ;  the  public  felt  disgusted, 
and  wlTfen  the  curtain  rose  upon  "  Les  Kessources  de  Quinola," 
the  house  was  almost  empty.  Thereupon  a  batch  of  nonde- 
scripts was  sent  into  the  streets  to  dispose  of  the  tickets  at 
any  price;  the  bait  was  indignantly  rejected,  and  the  curtain 
fell  amidst  violent  hisses.  I  repeat,  a  masterpiece  would  have 
failed  under  such  circumstances;  but  the  short  run  of  the 
revival,  almost  a  quarter  of  a  century  later  at  the  Vaudeville, 
proved  that  the  piece  was  not  even  an  ordinary  money- 
drawing  one.  It  only  kept  the  bills  for  about  nine  or  ten 
days. 

Lireux  was  more  fortunate  with  several  other  pieces,  no- 
tably with  that  of  Leon  Gozlan,  known  to  students  of  the 
French  drama  as  "  La  Main  Droite  et  la  Main  Gauche,"  but 
which  originally  bore  the  title  of  "  II  etait  une  Fois  un  Roi  et 
une  Reine."  There  could  be  no  doubt  about  its  tendency  in 
its  original  form  ;  it  was  nothing  less  than  an  indictment  for 
bigamy  both  against  Queen  Victoria  and  her  Consort ;  and 
the  authorities  had  to  insist  not  only  upon  the  change  of 
title  and  the  names  of  the  dramatis  personm,  but  upon  the 
action  being  shifted  from  London  to  Stockholm.  The  author 
and  manager  had  to  comply ;  but  the  public,  who  had  got 


12G  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

wind  of  the  affair,  crowded  the  house  every  night  in  order  to 
read  between  the  lines. 

One  of  my  great  sources  of  amusement  for  many  years 
has  been  the  perusal  of  political  after-dinner  speeches,  and 
political  leaders  in  the  English  papers,  especially  when  the 
speakers  and  writers  have  endeavoured  to  lay  stress  upon  the 
cordial  relations  between  the  French  and  the  English,  upon 
the  friendly  feelings  guiding  their  actions  on  both  sides.  I 
am  putting  together  these  notes  nearly  fourteen  years  after 
the  conclusion  of  the  Franco-German  War,  nearly  three 
quarters  of  a  century  after  Waterloo.  There  is  not  a  single 
Frenchman,  however  Chauvinistic,  who  ever  thinks,  let  alone 
talks,  of  avenging  Napoleon's  defeat  by  Wellington ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  not  a  single  Frenchman,  however 
unpatriotic,  who  does  not  dream  now  and  then  of  wiping  out 
the  humiliation  suffered  at  Sedan.  Well,  in  spite  of  the 
almost  entire  oblivion  of  the  one  disaster,  and  the  poignant 
recollection  of  the  other,  the  French  of  to-day  hate  the 
English  more  than  the  Germans;  or — let  me  put  it  more 
correctly — they  hate  the  Germans,  they  despise  us.  Nothing 
that  we  can  do  will  ever  remove  this  dislike  of  us. 

It  has  been  thus  as  long  as  I  can  remember ;  no  royal 
visits,  no  exchange  of  so-called  international  courtesfes  will 
alter  the  feeling.  It  is  ready  to  burst  forth,  the  smallest 
provocation  or  fancied  one  will  set  it  ablaze.  During  the 
forties  there  were  a  good  many  real  or  imaginary  provoca- 
tions on  the  part  of  England,  and,  as  a  consequence,  the 
hostile  feeling  against  her  broke  forth  where  it  is  almost 
always  sure  to  break  forth  first  in  France — on  the  stage  and 
in  song.  After  "  La  Main  Droite  et  la  Main  Gauche,"  came 
Halevy's  opera  of  "  Charles  VI."  It  is  but  fair  to  say  that 
the  Government  did  all  it  could  to  stem  the  tide,  but,  not- 
withstanding its  positive  orders  to  modify  the  chorus  of  the 
famous  war  song  in  the  first  act,  the  song  was  henceforth  re- 
garded as  a  patriotic  hymn.  Nor  did  the  visit  of  the  Queen 
to  Louis- Philippe  at  Eu,  in  1843,  effect  much  improvement 
in  this  state  of  things ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  we  on  the 
English  side  of  the  Channel  retaliated  the  skits,  etc.,  though 
I  do  not  think  we  took  them  au  grand  s6rieux.  When,  in 
January,  '44, 1  went  to  London  for  a  few  days,  I  found  the 
Christmas  pantomime  of  "  King  Pippin "  in  full  swing  at 
Drury  Lane.  I  well  remember  a  scene  of  it,  laid  in  the  shop 
of  a  dealer  in  plaster  figures.     Two  of  these  represented 


ANGLOPHOBIA  ON   THE  ENGLISH  STAGE.  127 

raspectively  the  King  of  France  and  the  Queen  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland.  At  a  given  moment,  the  two  statues 
became  animated,  drew  close  to  one  another,  and  exchanged 
the  most  profuse  salutations.  But  meanwhile,  at  the  back  of 
the  stage,  the  Gallic  cock  and  the  British  lion  (or  leopard) 
assumed  a  threatening  attitude,  and  at  each  mark  of  affection 
between  the  two  royal  personages,  shook  their  heads  violently 
and  seemed  to  want  desperately  to  come  to  close  quarters. 
The  audience  applauded  vociferously,  and  it  was  very  evident 
to  me  that  neither  in  Paris  nor  in  London  the  two  nations 
shared  the  entente  cordiale  of  their  rulers. 


128  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CIIAPTEE   VI. 

Kachel  and  some  of  her  fellow-actors — Rachel's  true  character — Her  greediness 
and  spitefulness— Her  vanitv  and  her  wit — Her  powers  of  fascination — The 
cost  of  being  fascinated  by  fier — Her  manner  of  levying  toll — Some  of  her 
victims,  Comte  Duchatel  and  Dr.  V^ron — The  story  of  her  guitar — A  little 
transaction  between  her  and  M.  Fould — Her  supposed  charity  and  gener- 
osity— Ten  tickets  for  a  charity  concert — How  she  made  them  into  twenty 
— liow  she  could  have  made  them  into  a  hundred — Baron  Taylor  puzzlei 
— Her  manner  of  giving  presents — Beauvallet's  precaution  with  regard  to 
one  of  her  gifts — Alexandre  Dumas  the  younger,  wiser  or  perhaps  not  so 
wise  in  his  generation — Kachel  as  a  raconteuse — The  story  of  her  debut  at 
the  Gymnase — What  Rachel  would  have  been  as  an  actor  instead  of  an 
actress — Her  comic  genius — Rachel's  mother— What  became  of  Rachel's 
money — Mama  Felix  as  a  pawnbroker — Rachel's  trinkets — Two  curious 
bi-acelets — Her  first  appearance  before  Nicholas  I. — A  dramatic  recital  in 
the  open  air — Rachel's  opinion  of  the  handsomest  man  in  Europe — Rachel 
and  Samson — Her  obligations  to  him — How  she  repavs  them — How  she 
goes  to  Berryer  to  be  coached  in  the  fable  of  "The  "two  Pigeons" — An 
anecdote  of  Berryer — Rachel's  fear  of  a  "  warm  reception  "  on  the  first  night 
of  "  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  " — How  she  averts  the  danger — Samson  as  a  man 
and  as  an  actor — Petticoat-revolts  at  the  Comedie-Fran^aise — Samson  and 
Regnier  as  buffers — Their  different  ways  of  pouring  oil  upon  the  troubled 
waters — Mdlle.  Sylvanie  Plessy — A  parallel  between  her  and  Sarah  Bern- 
hardt— Samson  and  Regnier's  pride  m  their  profession — The  different  char- 
acter of  that  pride — "  Apollo  with  a  bad  taUor,  and  who  dresses  without  a 
looking-glass" — Samson  gives  a  lesson  in  declamation  to  a  procureur- 
imperial — The  secret  of  Regniei"'s  greatness  as  an  actor — A  lesson  at  the 
Conservatoire — Regnier  on  ''  make-up " — Regnier's  opinion  of  genius  on 
the  stage — A  mot  of  Augustine  Brohan — Giovanni,  tne  wigmaker  of  the 
Comedie-Fran^aise — His  pride  in  his  profession— M.  Ancessy,  the  musical 
director,  and  his  three  wigs. 

There  were  few  authors  of  my  time  wlio  came  in  contact 
with  Eachel  without  writing  about  her ;  there  were  abso- 
lutely none  who  have  represented  her  in  her  true  character. 
Either  her  genins  blinded  them  to  her  faults,  or  else  they 
were  content  to  perpetuate  the  popular  belief  in  her  amia- 
bility, good  nature,  generosity,  etc.  The  fact  is,  that  Eachel 
off  the  stage  was  made  of  very  ordinary  clay.  She  had  few 
of  the  good  qualities  of  her  race,  and  a  good  many  of  the 
bad  ones;  she  was  greedy  to  a  degree,  and  could  be  very 
spiteful.  All  these  drawbacks,  in  the  eyes  of  most  of  her 
biographers,  were  redeemed  by  her  marvellous  tragic  abilities 


\ 


RACHEL  AND  SOME  OP  HER  FELLOW-ACTORS.   129 

on  the  stage,  by  a  wonderful  "  gift  of  the  gab,"  by  a  "  happy- 
go-lucky,"  "  hail-fellow,  well-met "  manner  off  the  stage  to 
those  whom  she  liked  to  propitiate.  Nevertheless,  there 
were  times  when  she  had  not  a  single  friend  at  the  Comedie- 
Fran9aise,  and  though  her  champions  attributed  this  hostil- 
ity to  jealousy  of  her  great  gifts,  a  moment's  consideration 
would  show  us  that  such  a  feeling  could  scarcely  have  in- 
fluenced the  men  Avho  to  a  great  extent  shared  her  histrionic 
triumphs,  viz.,  Beauvallet,  Regnier,  Provost,  Samson,  and 
least  of  all  the  latter.  Still,  all  these  would  have  willingly 
kept  her  out  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  after  she  had  left  it 
in  a  huff.  She  was  difficult  to  get  on  with ;  her  modesty, 
assumed  in  everyday  life,  was  a  sham,  for  woe  to  the  host 
who,  deceived  by  it,  did  not  at  once  make  her  the  queen  of 
the  entertainment !  And,  in  reality,  nothing  in  her  war- 
ranted such  a  temporary  elevation.  She  was  witty  in  her 
way  and  after  her  kind — that  is,  she  had  the  quick-witted- 
ness  of  the  French  woman  who  is  not  an  absolute  fool,  and 
who  has  for  many  years  rubbed  elbows  with  everything  dis- 
tinguished in  art  and  literature.  Notwithstanding  this  inti- 
macy, I  am  doubtful  whether  she  had  ever  read,  let  alone 
appreciated,  any  of  the  masterpieces  by  the  writers  of  her 
own  days  that  did  not  directly  bear  upon  her  profession.  I 
exclude  fiction — I  mean  narrative  fiction,  and  especially  that 
of  a  sensational  kind,  of  which  she  was  probably  as  fond  as 
the  meanest  concierge  and  most  romantic  milliner-girl. 

Nevertheless,  provided  one  did  not  attempt  to  analyze  it, 
the  power  of  fascinating  the  coldest  interlocutor  was  there. 
To  their  honor  be  it  said,  her  contemporaries,  especially  the 
men,  rarely  made  such  an  attempt  at  analysis.  They  ap- 
plauded all  she  said  (off  and  on  the  stage),  they  tolerated  all 
she  did,  albeit  that  they  paid  the  cost  of  many  of  her  so-called 
"  amiable  tricks,"  which  were  mainly  so  many  instances  of 
greed  and  nothing  else.  One  evening  she  was  dining  at 
Comte  Duchatel's,  the  minister  of  Louis-Philippe.  The  ta- 
ble was  positively  laden  with  flowers,  but  Eachel  did  not  care 
much  about  them ;  what  she  wanted  was  the  splendid  silver 
centre-piece.  But  she  was  too  clever  to  unmask  her  batteries 
at  once,  so  she  began  by  admiring  the  contents,  then  at  last 
she  came  to  the  principal  point.  The  host  was  either  in  one 
of  his  generous  or  foolish  moods,  and  made  her  a  present  of 
it  there  and  then.  Rachel  knew,  though,  that  even  with  a 
grand  seigneur  like  Comte  Duchdtel,  there  are  "  les  Icnde- 


130  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

mains  de  I'enthousiasme,"  especially  when  he  is  a  married 
man,  whose  wife  does  not  willingly  submit  to  have  her  home 
stripped  of  its  art-treasures.  The  tragedienne  came  in  a 
hackney  cab ;  the  comte  offered  to  send  her  back  in  his  car- 
riage. She  struck  the  iron  while  it  was  hot.  "  Yes,  that 
will  do  admirably ;  there  will  be  no  fear  of  my  being  robbed 
of  your  present,  which  I  had  better  take  with  me."  "  Per- 
fectly, mademoiselle,"  replied  the  comte ;  "  but  you  will  send 
me  back  my  carriage,  won't  you  ?  " 

Dr.  Veron  was  despoiled  with  even  less  ceremony.  Hav- 
ing taken  a  fancy  to  some  silver  saucers  or  cups  in  which  the 
proprietor  of  the  Constitutionnel  offered  ices  to  his  visitors, 
she  began  by  pocketing  one,  and  never  rested  until  she  had 
the  whole  of  the  set.  In  short,  everything  was  fish  to  her 
net.  She  made  her  friends  give  her  bibelots  and  knick- 
knacks  of  no  particular  value,  to  which  she  attached  some 
particular  legend — absolute  inventions  for  the  greatest  part 
— in  order  to  sell  them  for  a  thousand  times  their  original 
cost.  One  day  she  noticed  a  guitar  at  the  studio  of  one  of 
her  familiars.  "  Give  me  that  guitar ;  people  will  think  it  is 
the  one  with  which  I  earned  my  living  on  the  Place  Eoyale 
and  on  the  Place  de  la  Bastille."  And  as  such  it  was  sold 
by  her  to  M.  Achille  Fould  for  a  thousand  louis.  The  great 
financier  nearly  fell  into  a  fit  when  the  truth  was  told  to  him 
at  Kachel's  death ;  he,  in  his  turn,  having  wanted  to  "  do  a 
bit  of  business."  In  this  instance  no  Christian  suffered,  be- 
cause buyer  and  vendor  belonged  to  the  same  race.  Of 
course  the  panegyrists  of  Eachel,  when  the  story  came  to 
their  ears,  maintained  that  the  thousand  louis  were  employed 
for  some  charitable  purpose,  without,  however,  revealing  the 
particular  quarter  whither  they  went ;  but  those  who  judged 
Rachel  dispassionately  could  not  even  aver  that  her  charity 
began  at  home,  because,  though  she  never  ceased  complain- 
ing of  her  brother's  and  her  sisters'  extravagance,  both 
brother  and  sisters  could  have  told  very  curious  tales  about 
the  difficulty  of  making  her  loosen  her  purse-strings  for  even 
the  smallest  sums.  As  for  Rachel's  doing  good  by  stealth 
and  blushing  to  find  it  fame,  it  was  all  so  much  fudge.  Con- 
trary to  the  majority  of  her  fellow-professionals,  in  the  past 
as  well  as  the  present,  she  even  grudged  her  services  for  a 
concert  or  a  performance  in  aid  of  a  deserving  object,  al- 
though she  was  not  above  swelling  her  own  hoard  by  such 
entertainments. 


HER  SUPPOSED  CHARITY.  13t 

The  followiug  instance,  for  the  absohite  truth  of  which  I 
can  vouch,  is  a  proof  of  what  I  say.  One  day  the  celebrated 
Baron  Taylor,  who  had  been  the  director  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise,  came  to  solicit  her  aid  for  a  charity  concert ;  I  am 
not  certain  of  the  object,  but  believe  it  was  in  aid  of  the 
Christians  in  Persia  or  China.  The  tickets  were  to  be  a 
hundred  francs  each.  Sontag,  Alboni,  Eosine  Stoltz,  Mario, 
Lablache,  Vieuxtemps,  and  I  do  not  know  how  many  more 
celebrated  artists  had  promised  their  services. 

It  was  in  1850  when  M.  Arsene  Houssaye  was  her  di- 
rector, and  I  am  particular  about  giving  the  year,  because 
Eachel  refused  on  the  pretext  that  her  director  would  never 
give  her  leave  to  appear  on  any  other  stage.  Now,  it  so 
happenjed  that  no  woman  ever  had  a  more  devoted  friend 
and  chivalrous  champion  than  Rachel  had  in  Arsene  Hous- 
saye. His  friendship  for  her  was  simply  idolatry,  and  I 
verily  believe  that  if  she  had  asked  him  to  stand  on  his 
head  to  please  her,  he  would  have  done  so,  at  the  risk  of 
making  himself  supremely  ridiculous — he  who  feared  ridi- 
cule above  everything,  who  was  one  of  the  most  sensible  men 
of  his  time,  who  was  and  is  the  incarnation  of  good-nature, 
to  whom  no  one  in  distress  or  difficulties  ever  appealed  in  vain. 

Baron  Taylor  argued  all  this,  but  Rachel  remained  in- 
flexible. "  I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said  at  last,  rising  to  go, 
"  because  I  am  positive  that  your  name  on  the  bill  would 
have  made  a  difference  of  several  thousand  francs  in  the 
receipts." 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  want  my  name,"  was  the  answer,  "you 
may  have  it ;  you  can  make  an  apology  at  the  eleventh  hour 
for  my  absence  on  the  score  of  sudden  indisposition — the 
public  at  charity  concerts  are  used  to  that  sort  of  thing ; 
besides,  you  will  have  so  many  celebrities  that  it  will  make 
very  little  difference.  By-the-by  " — as  he  was  at  the  door — 
"  I  think  my  name  is  worth  ten  or  twenty  tickets."  Taylor 
knew  Rachel  too  well  to  be  in  the  least  surprised  at  the  de- 
mand, and  left  ten  tickets  on  the  mantelpiece. 

That  same  afternoon  he  met  Count  "Walewski,  and  as  a 
matter  of  course  asked  him  to  take  some  tickets. 

"Very  sorry,  cher  baron,  but  I  have  got  ten  already. 
You  see,  poor  Rachel  did  not  know  very  well  how  to  get  rid 
of  the  two  hundred  you  burdened  her  with  as  a  lady  -puc 
troness ;  so  she  wanted  me  to  have  twenty,  but  I  settled  the 
matter  with  ten.    As  it  is,  it  cost  me  a  thousand  francs." 


132  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Taylor  did  not  say  another  word — he  probably  could  not ; 
he  was  struck  dumb  with  astonishment  at  the  quickness  with 
which  Rachel  had  converted  the  tickets  into  money.  But 
what  puzzled  him  still  more  was  the  fact  of  her  having 
offered  Walewski  double  the  quantity  of  tickets  he  had  given 
her.  Where  had  she  got  the  others  from  ?  He  was  coming 
to  the  conclusion  that  she  had  offered  twenty  in  order  to 
place  ten,  when  he  ran  against  Comte  Le  Hon,  the  husband 
of  the  celebrated  Mdlle.  Musselmans,  the  erstwhile  Belgian 
ambassador  to  the  court  of  Louis-Philippe,  who  averred 
frankly  that  he  was  the  father  of  a  family,  though  he  had  no 
children  of  his  own. 

Taylor  thought  he  would  try  another  chance,  and  was 
met  with  the  reply,  "  Cher  baron,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I 
have  just  taken  five  tickets  from  Mdlle.  Rachel.  '  It  ap- 
pears that  she  is  a  lady  patroness,  and  that  they  burdened 
her  with  two  hundred  ;  fortunately,  she  told  me,  people 
were  exceedingly  anxious  to  get  them,  and  these  were  the 
last  five." 

"  Then  she  had  two  hundred  tickets  after  all,"  said  Baron 
Taylor  to  himself,  making  up  his  mind  to  find  out  who  had 
been  before  him  with  Rachel.  But  no  one  had  been  before 
him.  The  five  tickets  sold  to  Comte  Le  Hon  were  five  of  the 
ten  she  had  sold  to  Comte  "Walewski.  When  the  latter  had 
paid  her,  she  made  him  give  her  five  tickets  for  herself  and 
family,  or  rather  for  her  four  sisters  and  herself.  Of  Comte 
Le  Hon  she  only  took  toll  of  one,  which,  wonderful  to  relate, 
she  did  not  sell.  This  was  Rachel's  way  of  bestirring  herself 
in  the  cause  of  charity. 

"  Look  at  the  presents  she  made  to  every  one,"  say  the 
panegyrists.  They  forget  to  mention  that  an  hour  afterwards 
she  regretted  her  generosity,  and  from  that  moment  she  never 
left  off  scheming  how  to  get  the  thing  back.  Every  one 
knew  this.  Beauvallet,  to  whom  she  gave  a  magnificent 
sword  one  day,  instead  of  thanking  her,  said,  "  I'll  have  a 
chain  put  to  it,  mademoiselle,  so  as  to  fasten  it  to  the  wall  of 
my  dressing-room.  In  that  way  I  shall  be  sure  that  it  will 
not  disappear  during  my  absence."  Alexandre  Dumas  the 
younger,  to  whom  she  made  a  present  of  a  ring,  bowed  low 
and  placed  it  back  on  her  finger  at  once.  "  Allow  me  to  pre- 
sent it  to  you  in  my  turn,  mademoiselle,  so  as  to  prevent  you 
asking  for  it."  She  did  not  say  nay,  but  carried  the  matter 
with  one  of  her  fascinating  smiles.     "  It  is  most  natural  to 


THE  STORY  OP  A  FAILURE.  133 

take  back  what  one  has  given,  because  what  one  has  given 
was  dear  to  us,"  she  replied. 

Between  '46  and  '53  I  saw  a  great  deal  of  Rachel,  generally 
in  the  green-room  of  the  Comedie-Franpaise,  which  was  by 
no  means  the  comfortable  or  beautiful  apartment  people 
imagine,  albeit  that  even  in  those  days  the  Comedie  had  a 
collection  of  interesting  pictures,  busts,  and  statues  worthy 
of  being  housed  in  a  small  museum.  The  chief  ornament  of 
the  room  was  a  large  glass  between  the  two  windows,  but  if 
the  apartment  had  Ijeen  as  bare  as  a  barn,  the  conversation  of 
Rachel  would  have  been  sufficient  to  make  one  forget  all 
about  its  want  of  decoration  ;  for,  with  the  exception  of  the 
elder  Dumas,  I  have  never  met  any  one,  either  man  or  woman, 
who  exercised  the  personal  charm  she  did.  I  have  been  told 
since  that  Bismarck  has  the  same  gift.  I  was  never  sufficiently 
intimate  with  the  great  statesman  to  be  able  to  judge,  having 
only  met  him  three  or  four  times,  and  under  conditions  that 
did  not  admit  of  fairly  testing  his  powers  in  that  respect,  but 
I  have  an  idea  that  the  charm  of  both  lay  in  their  utter  indif- 
ference to  the  effect  produced,  or  else  in  their  absolute  con- 
fidence of  the  result  of  their  simplicity  of  diction,  Rachel's 
art  of  telling  a  story,  if  art  it  was,  reminded  one  of  that  of 
the  chroniclers  of  the  Niebelungen  ;  tor  notwithstanding  her 
familiarity  with  Racine  and  Corueille,  her  vocabulary  was  ex- 
ceedingly limited,  and  her  syntax,  if  not  her  grammar,  off 
the  stage,  not  always  free  from  reproach, 

I  do  not  pretend,  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  to  give 
these  stories  in  her  own  language,  or  all  of  them  ;  there  are  a 
few,  however,  worth  the  telling,  apart  from  the  fascination 
with  which  she  invested  them. 

One  evening  she  said  to  me,  "  Do  you  know  Poirson  ?  " 

I  had  known  Poirson  when  he  was  director  of  the  Gym- 
nase.  He  afterwards  always  invited  me  to  his  soirees,  one  of 
which,  curiously  enough,  was  given  on  the  Sunday  before 
the  Revolution  of  '48.     So  I  said,  "  Yes,  I  know  Poirson." 

"  Has  he  ever  told  you  why  he  did  not  re-engage  me  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  I'll  tell  you.  People  said  it  was  because  I  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  '  La  Vendeenne  '  of  Paul  Duport ;  but  that  was  not 
the  cause.  It  was  something  much  more  ridiculous;  and 
now  that  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  am  not  sure  that  I  ought 
to  tell  you,  for  you  are  an  Englishman,  and  you  will  be 
shocked." 


134  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

I  was  not  shocked,  I  was  simply  convulsed  with  laughter* 
for  Eachel,  not  content  with  telling  the  story,  got  up,  and, 
gradually  drawing  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  enacted  it.  It 
was  one  of  those  ludicrous  incidents  that  happen  sometimes 
on  the  stage,  which  no  amount  of  foresight  on  the  part  of 
the  most  skilful  and  conscientious  manager  or  actor  can  pre- 
Tent,  but  which  almost  invariably  ruins  the  greatest  master- 
piece. There  were  about  eight  or  nine  actors  and  actresses 
in  the  room — Eegnier,  Samson,  Beauvallet,  etc.  It  was 
probably  the  most  critical  audience  in  Europe,  but  every  one 
shook,  and  Mdlle.  Anais  Aubert  went  into  a  dead  faint. 
Eegnier  often  averred  that  if  Eachel  had  been  a  man,  she 
would  have  been  the  greatest  comic  actor  that  ever  lived ; 
and  it  is  not  generally  known  that  she  once  played  Dorine  in 
"  Tartuffe,"  and  set  the  whole  of  the  house  into  a  perfect 
roar ;  but  on  that  evening  I  became  convinced  that  Eachel, 
in  addition  to  her  tragic  gifts,  was  the  spirit  of  Aristopha- 
nesque  comedy  personified.  I  am  afraid,  however,  that  I 
cannot  tell  the  story,  or  even  hint  at  it,  beyond  mentioning 
that  Poirson  is  reported  to  have  said  that  Eachel  did  not 
want  a  stage-manager,  but  a  nurse  to  take  care  of  her.  The 
criticism  was  a  cruel  one,  though  justified  by  appearances. 
It  was  Mama  Felix,  and  not  her  daughter,  who  was  to  blame. 
The  child — she  was  scarcely  more  than  that — had  hurt  her- 
self severely,  and  instead  of  keeping  her  at  home,  she  sent 
her  to  the  theatre,  "  poulticed  all  over,"  as  Eachel  expressed 
it  afterwards. 

Mama  Felix  was  the  only  one  who  was  a  match  for  her 
famous  daughter  in  money  matters.  What  the  latter  did  with 
the  enormous  sums  of  money  she  earned  has  always  been  a 
mystery.  As  I  have  already  said,  they  were  not  spent  in 
charity.  Nowadays,  whatever  other  theatres  may  do,  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise  dresses  its  pensionnaires  as  well  as  its 
societaires  from  head  to  foot;  it  pays  the  bootmaker's  as 
well  as  the  wigmaker's  bill,  and  the  laundress's  also.  Speak- 
ing of  the  beginning  of  her  career,  which  coincided  with  the 
end  of  Eachel's,  Madeleine  Brohan,  whose  language  was 
often  more  forcible  than  elegant,  remarked,  "  Dans  ma 
jeunesse,  on  nous  mettait  toutes  nues  sur  la  scene;  nous 
etions  assez  jolies  pour  cela."  But  Eachel's  costumes  varied 
so  little  throughout  her  career  as  to  have  required  but  a 
small  outlay  on  her  part.  Nor  could  her  ordinary  dresses 
and  furniture,  which  I  happened  to  see  in  April,  1858,  when 


HER  MONETARY  AFFAIRS.  135 

they  were  sold  by  public  auction  at  her  apartments  in  the 
Place  Eoyale,  have  made  a  considerable  inroad  on  her  earn- 
ings. The  furniture  was  commonplace  to  a  degree;  such 
pictures  and  knickknacks  as  were  of  value  had  been  given  to 
her,  or  acquired  in  the  manner  I  have  already  described ;  the 
laces  and  trinkets  were,  undoubtedly,  not  purchased  with 
her  own  money.  It  is  said  that  her  brother  Raphael  was  a 
spendthrift.  He  may  have  been,  but  he  did  not  spend  his 
celebrated  sister's  money ;  of  that  I  feel  certain.  Then  what 
became  of  it?  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Mdlle.  Rachel 
dabbled  considerably  in  stocks,  and  that,  notwithstanding 
her  shrewdness  and  sources  of  information,  she  was  the 
victim  of  people  cleverer  than  she  was.  At  any  rate,  one 
thing  is  certain — she  was  nearly  always  hard  up;  and,  after 
having  exhausted  the  good  will  of  all  her  male  acquaintances 
and  friends,  compelled  to  appeal  to  her  mother,  who  had 
made  a  considerable  hoard  for  her  other  four  sisters,  and 
perhaps  also  for  her  scapegrace  son ;  for,  curiously  enough, 
with  Mama  Felix  every  one  of  hei  children  was  a  goddess  or 
god,  except  the  goddess.  This  want  of  appreciation  on  the 
mother's  part  reminds  me  of  a  story  told  to  me  by  Meison- 
nier.  His  granddaughter,  on  her  fifteenth  or  sixteenth  birth- 
day, had  a  very  nice  fan  given  to  her.  The  sticks  were  ex- 
quisitely carved  in  ivory,  and  must  have  cost  a  pretty  tidy 
sum,  but  the  fan  itself,  of  black  gauze,  was  absolutely  plain. 
The  donor  probably  intended  the  grandfather's  art  to  en- 
hance the  value  of  the  present,  and  the  latter  was  about  to 
do  so,  when  the  young  lady  stopped  him  with  the  cry,  "  Voila 
qu'il  va  me  gdter  mon  eventail  avec  ses  mannequins  !  "  The 
irony  of  non-appreciation  by  one's  nearest  and  dearest  could 
no  further  go. 

Mama  Felix,  then,  was  very  close-fisted,  and  would  never 
lend  her  daughter  any  money,  except  on  very  good  security, 
namely,  on  her  jewels.  In  addition  to  this,  she  made  her  sign 
an  undertaking  that  if  not  redeemed  at  a  certain  date  they 
would  be  forfeited  ;  and  forfeited  they  were,  if  the  loan  and 
interest  were  not  forthcoming  at  the  stipulated  time,  not- 
withstanding the  ravings  of  Rachel.  This  would  probably 
account  for  the  comparatively  small  quantity  of  valuable 
jewelery  found  after  her  death. 

Some  of  the  ornaments  I  have  seen  her  wear  had  an 
artistic  value  utterly  apart  from  their  cost,  others  were  so 
commonplace  and  such  evident  imitations  as  to  have  been 


136  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

declined  by  the  merest  grisette.  One  day  I  noticed  round 
her  wrist  a  peculiar  bracelet.  It  was  composed  of  a  great 
number  of  rings,  some  almost  priceless,  others  less  valuable 
but  still  very  artistic,  others  again  possessing  no  value  what- 
soever, either  artistically  or  otherwise.  I  asked  her  to  take  it 
off  and  found  it  to  be  very  heavy,  so  heavy  that  I  remarked 
upon  it.  "  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  cannot  wear  two  of  the 
same  weight,  so  I  am  obliged  to  wear  the  other  in  my 
pocket."  And  out  came  the  second,  composed  of  nearly 
double  the  number  of  rings  of  the  first.  I  was  wondering 
where  all  those  rings  came  from,  but  I  refrained  from  asking 
questions.  I  was  enabled  to  form  my  own  conclusions  a 
little  while  afterwards,  in  the  following  way : 

While  we  were  still  admiring  the  bracelet,  Rachel  took 
from  her  finger  a  plain  gold  hoop,  in  the  centre  of  which 
was  an  imperial  eagle  of  the  same  metal.  "  This  was  given 
to  me  by  Prince  Louis  Napoleon,"  she  said,  "  on  the  occasion 
of  my  last  journey  to  London.  He  told  me  that  it  was  a 
souvenir  from  his  mother,  and  that  he  would  not  have  parted 
with  it  to  any  one  else  but  me." 

I  cannot  remember  the  exact  date  of  this  conversation, 
but  it  must  have  been  shortly  after  the  Revolution,  when  the 
future  emperor  had  just  landed  in  France.  About  three  or 
four  weeks  afterwards  we  were  talking  to  Augustine  Brohan, 
who  had  just  returned  from  London,  where  she  had  fulfilled 
an  engagement  of  one  or  two  months.  Rachel  was  not  there 
that  night,  but  some  one  asked  her  if  she  had  seen  Prince 
Louis  in  London.  "  Yes,"  she  replied  ;  "  he  was  going  away, 
and  he  gave  me  a  present  before  he  went."  Thereupon  she 
took  from  her  finger  a  ring  exactly  like  that  of  Rachel's.  He 
told  me  it  was  a  souvenir  from  his  mother,  and  that  he  would 
not  have  parted  with  it  to  any  one  but  me." 

We  looked  at  one  another  and  smiled.  The  prince  had 
evidently  a  jeweller  who  manufactured  "  souvenirs  from  his 
mother  "  by  the  dozen,  and  which  he,  the  prince,  distributed 
at  that  time,  "  in  remembrance  of  certain  happy  hours."  The 
multiplicity  of  the  rings  on  Rachel's  wrist  was  no  longer  a 
puzzle  to  me.  I  was  thinking  of  the  story  in  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  where  the  lady  with  the  ninety-eight  rings  bewitches 
the  Sultans  Shariar  and  Shahzenan,  in  spite  of  the  jealousy 
and  watchfulness  of  the  monster  to  whom  she  belongs,  and 
so  makes  the  hundred  complete. 

Among  the  many  stories  Rachel  told  me  there  is  one  not 


RACHEL  AT  THE  PRUSSIAN  COURT.  I37 

generally  known — that  of  her  first  appearance  before  Nicho- 
las I.  Though  she  was  very  enthusiastically  received  in  Lon- 
don, and  though  she  always  spoke  gratefully  of  the  many  acts 
of  kindness  shown  her  there,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  she 
felt  hurt  at  the  want  of  cordiality  on  the  part  of  the  English 
aristocracy  when  they  invited  her  to  recite  at  their  entertain- 
ments. This  may  be  a  mere  surmise  of  mine ;  I  have  no  bet- 
ter grounds  for  it  than  an  expression  of  hers  one  day  when 
we  were  discussing  London  society.  "  Oui,  les  Anglais,  ils 
sont  tres  aimables,  mais  ils  paraissent  avoir  peur  des  artistes, 
comme  des  betes  sauvages,  car  ils  vous  parquent  comme  elles 
au  Jardin  des  Plantes."  I  found  out  afterwards  that  it  was 
a  kind  of  grudge  she  bore  the  English  for  having  invariably, 
improvised  a  platform  or  enclosure  by  means  of  silken  ropes. 
Certain  is  it  that,  beyond  a  few  casual  remarks  at  long  inter- 
vals upon  London,  she  seemed  reluctant  to  discuss  the  sub- 
ject with  me.  Not  so  with  regard  to  Potsdam  after  her  return 
whence  in  August,  '51.  In  the  beginning  of  July  of  that 
year  she  told  me  that  she  had  a  special  engagement  to  appear 
before  the  court  on  the  13th  of  that  month.  I  did  not  see 
her  until  a  few  weeks  after  she  came  back,  and  then  she  gave 
me  a  full  account  of  the  affair.  I  repeat,  after  the  lapse  of 
so  many  years,  I  cannot  reproduce  her  own  words,  and  I 
could  not,  even  half  an  hour  after  her  narrative,  have  repro- 
duced the  manner  of  her  telling  it ;  but  I  can  vouch  for  the 
correctness  of  the  facts. 

"About  six  o'clock,  Eaphael  [her  brother],  who  was  to 
give  me  my  cues,  and  I  arrived  at  Potsdam,  where  we  were 
met  by  Schneider,  who  had  made  the  engagement  with  me. 
You  know,  perhaps,  that  Schneider  had  been  an  actor  him- 
self, that  afterwards  he  had  been  promoted  to  the  director- 
ship of  the  Eoyal  Opera  House,  and  that  now  he  is  the  private 
reader  to  the  king,  with  the  title  of  privy  or  aulic  councillor. 

"  Schneider  is  a  very  nice  man,  and  I  have  never  heard  a 
German  speak  our  language  so  perfectly.  Perhaps  it  was  as 
well,  because  I  dread  to  contemplate  what  would  have  been 
the  effect  upon  my  nerves  and  ears  of  lamentations  in  Teu- 
tonized  French." 

"  Why  lamentations  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Ah,  nous  voila  ! "  she  replied.  "  You  remember  I  was 
in  mourning.  The  moment  I  stepped  out  of  the  carriage, 
he  exclaimed,  '  But  you  are  all  in  black,  mademoiselle.'  '  Of 
course  I  am,'  I  said,  '  seeing  that  I  am  in  raourning.'    '  Great 


138  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Heaven  !  wliat  am  I  to  do  ?  Black  is  not  admitted  at  court 
on  such  occasions.'  I  believe  it  was  the  birthday  of  the 
Czarina,  but  of  course  I  was  not  bound  to  know  that. 

"  There  was  no  time  to  return  to  Berlin,  and  least  of  all 
to  get  a  dress  from  there,  so  Raphael  and  he  put  their  heads 
together ;  the  result  of  which  conference  was  my  being  bun- 
dled rather  than  handed  into  a  carriage,  which  drove  off  at 
full  speed  to  the  Chdteau  de  Glinicke.  I  could  scarcely  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  country  around  Potsdam,  which  seemed  to 
me  very  lovely. 

"When  we  got  to  Glinicke,  which  belongs  to  Prince 
Charles,  I  was  handed  over  to  some  of  the  ladies-in-waiting  of 
the  princess.  Handed  over  is  the  only  word,  because  I  felt 
more  like  a  prisoner  than  anything  else,  and  they  tried  to 
make  '  little'  Rachel '  presentable  according  to  their  lights. 
One  of  them,  after  eyeing  me  critically,  suggested  my  wear- 
ing a  dress  of  hers.  In  length  it  would  have  done  very  well, 
only  I  happen  to  be  one  of  the  lean  kine,  and  she  decidedly 
was  not,  so  that  idea  had  to  be  abandoned.  They  may  be 
very  worthy  women,  these  German  ladies,  but  their  inventive- 
ness with  regard  to  dress  is  absolutely  nil.  When  the  idea 
suggested  by  the  first  lady  turned  out  to  be  impracticable, 
they  were  a  bout  de  ressources.  You  may  gather  from  this, 
mon  ami,  that  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  their  strategic  de 
la  toilette  are  not  far  apart.  There  was  one  thing  that  con- 
soled me  for  this  sudden  exhaustion  of  their  limited  inge- 
nuity. Between  the  haK-dozen — for  they  were  half  a  dozen — 
they  could  not  find  a  single  word  when  the  first  and  only 
device  proved  impossible  of  realization.  Had  there  been  the 
same  number  of  French  women  assembled,  it  would  have 
been  a  kind  of  little  madhouse;  in  this  instance  there  was  a 
deep  silence  for  at  least  ten  minutes,  eventually  broken  by 
the  knocking  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  maids,  with  Herr 
Schneider's  compliments,  and  wishing  to  know  what  had 
been  decided  upon.  The  doleful  answer  brought  him  to  the 
room,  and  what  six  women  could  not  accomplish,  he,  like  the 
true  artist,  accomplished  at  once.  '  Get  Mdlle.  Rachel  a  black 
lace  mantilla,  put  a  rose  in  her  hair,  and  give  her  a  pair  of 
white  gloves.'  In  less  than  ten  minutes  I  was  ready,  and  in 
another  ten,  Raphael,  Schneider,  and  I  embarked  on  a  pretty 
little  steam-yacht  lying  ready  at  the  end  of  the  magnificent 
garden  for  '  I'lle  des  Paons  '  (Pfauen-Insul,  Peacock  Island), 
where  we  landed  exactly  at  eight.    But  my  troubles  and  sur- 


A  CURIOUS   DRAMATIC   RECITAL.  139 

prises  ^yere  not  at  au  end.  I  made  sure  that  there  would  be 
at  least  a  tent,  an  awning,  or  a  platform  for  me  to  stand  un- 
der or  upon.  Ah,  oui !  not  the  smallest  sign  of  either. 
'  Voila  votre  estrade,'  said  Schneider,  pointing  to  a  small 
lawn,  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  gardens  by  a  gravelled 
walk  three  or  four  feet  wide.  I  declined  at  once  to  act  un- 
der such  conditions,  and  insisted  upon  being  taken  back  im- 
mediately to  the  station,  and  from  thence  to  Berlin.  Poor 
Schneider  was  simply  in  despair.  In  vain  did  he  point  out 
that  to  any  one  else  the  total  absence  of  scenery  and  adjuncts 
might  prove  a  drawback,  but  that  to  me  it  would  only  be  an 
additional  advantage,  as  it  would  bring  into  greater  relief  my 
own  talent ;  I  would  not  be  persuaded.  Finding  that  it  was 
fruitless  to  play  upon  my  vanity  as  an  artist,  he  appealed  to 
me  as  a  femme  du  monde.  '  The  very  absence  of  all  prepa- 
rations,' he  said,  '  proves  that  their  majesties  have  not  en- 
gaged Mdlle.  Eachel  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  to  give  a  reci- 
tation, but  invited  Mdlle.  Eachel  Felix  to  one  of  their  soirees. 
That  Mdlle.  Eachel  Felix  should  be  kind  enough,  after  hav- 
ing partaken  of  a  cup  of  tea,  to  recite  something,  would  only 
be  another  proof  of  her  well-known  readiness  to  oblige ; '  and 
so  forth.  Let  me  tell  you,  mon  cher,  that  I  have  rarely  met 
with  a  cleverer  diplomatist,  and  Heaven  knows  I  have  seen  a 
lot  who  imagined  themselves  clever.  They  could  not  hold  a 
candle  to  this  erstwhile  actor ;  nevertheless  I  remained  as 
firm  as  a  rock,  though  I  was  sincerely  distressed  on  Schnei- 
der's account." 

"  What  made  you  give  in  at  last?"  I  inquired.  "  Was  it 
the  idea  of  losing  the  magnificent  fee  ?  " 

"  For  once  you  are  mistaken,"  she  laughed,  "  though 
Schneider  himself  brought  that  argument  to  bear  as  a  big 
piece  of  artillery.  '  Eemember  this,  mademoiselle,'  he  said, 
when  he  could  think  of  nothing  else  ;  '  remember  this — that 
this  soiree  may  be  the  means  of  putting  three  hundred 
thousand  or  four  hundred  thousand  francs  into  your  pocket. 
You  yourself  told  me  just  now  on  board  the  yacht  that  you 
were  very  anxious  for  an  engagement  at  St.  Petersburg.  I 
need  scarcely  tell  you  that,  if  you  refuse  to  appear  before 
their  majesties  to-night,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  state  the 
reason,  and  Eussia  will  be  for  ever  closed  to  you.  Apart  from 
pecuniary  considerations,  it  will  be  said  by  your  enemies — 
and  your  very  eminence  in  your  profession  causes  you  to  have 
many — that  you  have,  failed  to  please  the  Empress.    After 


140  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

all,  the  fact  that  all  the  ordinary  surroundings  of  the  actress 
have  been  neglected  proves  that  you  are  not  looked  upon  as 
an  actress  by  them,  but  as  une  femme  du  monde.' " 

"  That  persuaded  vou  ?  "  1  remarked. 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Then  it  was  the  money." 

"  Of  course  you  would  think  so,  even  if  I  swore  the  con- 
trary a  hundred  times  over ;  but  if  you  were  to  guess  from 
now  till  to-morrow,  you  would  never  hit  upon  the  real  reason 
that  made  me  stay." 

"  Well,  then,  I  had  better  not  try,  and  you  had  better  tell 
me  at  once." 

"  Strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  it  was  neither  the  grati- 
fication of  being  treated  en  femme  du  monde  nor  the  money 
that  made  me  stay ;  it  was  the  desire  to  see  what  I  had  been 
told  was  the  handsomest  man  in  Europe.  I  did  see  him,  and 
for  once  in  a  way  rumour  had  not  exaggerated  the  reality.  I 
had  scarcely  given  my  final  consent  to  Schneider,  when  the 
yacht  carrying  the  imperial  and  royal  families  came  alongside 
the  island,  and  the  illustrious  passengers  landed,  amidst  an 
avalanche  of  flowers  thrown  from  the  other  vessels.  Schneider 
presented  me  to  the  King,  who  was  also  good-looking,  and 
the  latter  presented  me  to  the  Czar. 

"  Immediately  afterwards  the  recital  began.  At  the  risk 
of  taxing  your  credulity  still  further,  I  may  tell  you  that  I, 
Kachel,  who  never  knew  what '  stage-fright '  meant,  felt  nerv- 
ous. That  man  to  me  looked  like  a  very  god.  Fortunately 
for  my  reputation,  the  shadows  of  night  were  gathering  fast ; 
in  another  twenty  minutes  it  would  be  quite  dark,  and  I  felt 
almost  rejoiced  that  my  audience  could  scarcely  distinguish 
my  features.  On  the  other  hand,  Raphael,  who  only  knew 
the  part  of  Hippolyte  by  heart,  and  who  was  obliged  to  read 
the  others,  declared  that  he  could  not  see  a  line,  and  caudles 
had  to  be  brought  in.  It  was  a  glorious  evening,  but  there 
was  a  breeze  nevertheless,  and  as  fast  as  the  candles  were 
lighted,  they  were  extinguished  by  the  wind.  To  put  ordi- 
nary lamps  on  the  lawn  at  our  feet  was  not  to  be  thought  of 
for  a  moment ;  luckily  one  of  the  functionaries  remembered 
that  there  were  some  candelabra  with  globes  inside,  and  by 
means  of  these  a  kind  of  '  float '  was  improvised.  Still  the 
scene  was  a  curious  one.  Eaphael  close  to  me  on  the  edge  of 
the  lawn,  with  one  of  these  candelabra  in  his  left  hand.  Be- 
hind, to  the  left  and  right  of  us,  a  serried  crowd  of  generals. 


RACHEL  AND  SAMSON.  141 

court  dignitaries  in  magnificent  nniforms.  In  front,  and 
separated  by  the  whole  width  of  a  gravel  walk,  the  whole 
group  of  sovereigns  and  their  relations,  and  behind  them  the 
walls  of  the  mansion,  against  which  the  tea-table  had  been 
set,  and  around  which  stood  the  ladies-in-waiting  of  the 
Queen  of  Prussia  and  the  Empress  of  Eussia.  A  deep  silence 
around,  only  broken  by  the  soft  soughing  of  the  wind  in  the 
trees,  and  the  splashing  of  a  couple  of  fountains  near,  playing 
a  dirge-like  accompaniment  to  Eaphael's  and  my  voice. 

"  The  recital  lasted  for  nearly  an  hour ;  if  I  had  liked  1 
could  have  kept  them  there  the  whole  night,  for  never  in  my 
career  have  I  had  such  an  attentive,  such  a  religiously  atten- 
tive, audience.  The  King  Avas  the  first  to  notice  my  fatigue, 
and  he  gave  the  signal  for  my  leaving  off  by  coming  up  and 
thanking  me  for  my  efforts.  The  Emperor  followed  his  ex- 
ample, and  stood  chatting  to  me  for  a  long  while.  In  a  few 
minutes  I  was  the  centre  of  a  circle  which  I  am  not  likely 
to  forget  as  long  as  I  live.  Then  came  the  question  how 
Eaphael  and  I  were  to  get  back  to  Berlin.  The  last  train 
w^as  gone.  But  Schneider  simply  suggested  a  special,  and  a 
mounted  messenger  was  despatched  then  and  there  to  order 
it.  After  everything  had  been  arranged  for  my  comfortable 
return,  the  sovereigns  departed  as  they  had  come,  only  this 
time  the  yacht,  as  well  as  the  others  on  the  lake,  were  splen- 
didly illuminated.  This  was  my  first  appearance  before 
Nicholas  I," 

There  was  no  man  to  whom  Eachel  owed  more  than  to 
Samson,  or  even  as  much ;  but  for  him,  and  in  spite  of  her 
incontestable  genius,  the  Comedie-rran9ais  might  have  re- 
mained closed  to  her  for  many  years,  if  not  forever.  Fre- 
derick Lemaitre  and  Marie  Dorval  were  undoubtedly,  in  their 
own  way,  as  great  as  she,  yet  the  blue  riband  of  their  profes- 
sion never  fell  to  their  lot.  And  yet,  when  she  had  reached 
the  topmost  rung  of  the  ladder  of  fame,  Eachel  was  very 
often  not  only  ungrateful  to  him,  but  her  ingratitude  showed 
itself  in  mean,  spiteful  tricks.  When  Legouve's  "  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur"  was  being  cast,  Samson,  who  had  forgiven 
Eachel  over  and  over  again,  was  on  such  cool  terms  with  her 
that  the  authors  feared  he  would  not  accept  the  part  of  the 
Prince  de  Bouillon.  Nevertheless,  Samson,  than  whom  there 
was  not  a  more  honourable  and  conscientious  man,  on  or  off 
the  stage,  accepted  ;  he  would  not  let  his  resentment  inter- 
fere with  what  he  considered  his  duty  to  the  institution  of 


112  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

which  he  was  so  eminent  a  member.  This  alone  ought  to 
have  been  sufficient  to  heal  the  breach  between  the  tutor  and 
the  pupil ;  any  woman  with  the  least  spark  of  generosity,  in 
the  position  of  Eachel  towards  Samson,  would  have  taken  the 
first  step  towards  a  reconciliation.  Eachel,  as  will  be  seen 
directly,  was  perfectly  conscious  of  what  she  ought  to  do 
under  the  circumstances ;  she  was  too  great  an  actress  not  to 
have  studied  the  finer  feelings  of  the  human  heart,  and  yet 
she  did  not  do  it.  On  the  contrary,  she  aggravated  matters. 
Every  one  knows  the  fable  of  "  The  Two  Pigeons "  which 
Adrienne  recites  at  the  soiree  of  the  Princesse  de  Bouillon. 
Now,  it  so  happened  that  the  great  barrister  and  orator,  Ber- 
ryer,  was  considered  a  most  charming  reciter  of  that  kind  of 
verse.  Berryer,  a  most  simple-minded  man,  took  special  de- 
light in  sharing  the  most  innocent  games  of  young  children. 
He  was  especially  fond  of  the  game  of  "  forfeits " ;  and  so 
great  was  his  fame  as  a  diseur,  that  the  penalty  generally  im- 
posed upon  him  was  the  reciting  of  a  fable.  But  great  diseur 
as  he  was,  he  himself  acknowledged  that  Samson  could  have 
given  him  a  lesson. 

At  every  new  part  she  undertook,  Eachel  was  in  the  habit 
of  consulting  with  her  former  tutor ;  this  time  she  went  to 
consult  Berryer  instead,  and,  what  was  worse,  took  pains  that 
every  one  should  hear  of  it.  "  Then  my  heart  smote  me," 
she  said  afterwards,  when  by  one  of  those  irresistible  tricks 
of  hers  she  had  obtained  her  tutor's  pardon  once  more.  It 
was  as  deliberate  a  falsehood  as  she  ever  uttered  in  her  life, 
Avhich  in  Eachel's  case  means  a  good  deal.  The  fact  was, 
the  affair,  as  I  have  already  said,  had  been  bruited  about, 
mainly  by  herself  at  first ;  the  public  showed  a  disposition  to 
take  Samson's  part,  and  she  felt  afraid  of  a  "  warm  reception  " 
on  the  first  night. 

Under  these  circumstances  she  had  recourse  to  one  of  her 
wiles,  which,  for  being  theatrical,  was  not  less  effective.  At 
the  first  rehearsal,  when  Adrienne  has  to  turn  to  Michonnet, 
saying,  "  This  is  my  true  friend,  to  whom  I  owe  everything," 
she  turned,  not  to  Eegnier,  who  played  Michonnet,  and  to 
whom  the  words  are  addressed,  but  to  Samson,  at  the  same 
time  holding  out  her  hand  to  him.  Samson,  who,  notwith- 
standing all  their  disagreements,  very  felt  proud  of  his  great 
pupil,  who  was,  moreover,  of  a  very  affectionate  disposition, 
notwithstanding  his  habitual  reserve,  fell  into  the  trap. 
He  took  her  proffered  hand  ;  then  she  flung  herself  into  his 


A  DIRECTOR  OF  THE  COMEDIE.  I4.3 

amis,  and  the  estrangement  was  at  an  end,  for  the  time 
being.  Rachel  took  great  care  to  make  the  reconciliation  as 
public  as  possible. 

I  was  never  very  intimate  with  Samson,  but  the  little  I 
knew  of  him  I  liked.  I  repeat,  he  was  essentially  an  honour- 
able and  honest  man,  and  very  tolerant  with  regard  to  the 
foibles  of  the  fair  sex.  There  was  need  for  such  tolerance  in 
those  days.  Augustine  Brohan,  Sylvanie  Plessy,  Rachel,  and 
half  a  dozen  other  women,  all  very  talented,  but  all  very  way- 
ward, made  Buloz'  life  (he  was  the  director  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran9aise,  as  well  as  the  editor  of  the  Revue  des  Deux 
Mondes)  a  burden  to  him.  He  who  could,  and  often  did,  dic- 
tate his  will  to  men  who  already  then  were  famous  throughout 
Europe,  frequently  found  himself  powerless  against  women, 
who,  however  celebrated,  were,  with  the  exception  of  Rachel, 
nothing  in  comparison  with  the  former.  He  was,  it  is  true, 
overbearing  to  a  degree,  and  disagreeable  besides,  but  his 
temper  proved  of  no  avail  with  them ;  it  only  made  matters 
worse.  "Apres  tout,"  he  said  one  day  to  Madame  Allan, 
who  was  the  most  amenable  of  all,  "  je  suis  le  maitre  ici." 
"  (^a  se  peut,  monsieur,"  was  the  answer,  "  mais  nous  sommes 
les  contres  maitre."  * 

In  nearly  all  such  troubles  Regnier  and  Samson  had  to 
act  as  buffers  between  the  two  contending  parties;  but, 
as  Augustine  Brohan  explained  once,  the  two  were  utterly 
different  in  their  mode  of  casting  oil  upon  the  troubled  waters. 
"  Regnier,"  she  said,  "  c'est  le  bon  Dieu  des  Chretiens,  qui  se 
fait  tres  souventmener  par  le  nez  par  des  mots.  Du  reste  son 
nez  s'yprete.  f  Samson  c'est  le  Dieu  juste,  mais  vengeur  des 
Juifs,  qui  veut  bien  pardonner,  mais  seulement  apres  soumis- 
sion  complete  et  entiere.  Samson  ne  vous  promet  pas  le  ciel, 
il  vous  offre  des  compensations  solides  ici  has." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  paint  the  contrast  between  two 
characters  in  fewer  words.  In  1845,  when  Mdlle.  Sylvanie 
Plessy  seceded  from  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  Regnier  wrote  a 
kind  epistle,  recommending  her  to  come  and  explain  matters 
either  personally  or  by  letter.     "  Let  your  letter  be  kind  and 

*  The  play  upon  the  word  is  scarcely  translatable.  "  Centre -maitre  "  in  the 
singular  means  foreman ;  as  it  is  used  here  it  means  against  the  master. — 
Editor. 

t  R6gnier's  nose  was  always  a  subject  of  jokes  among  his  fellow-actors.  "  It 
is  not  because  it  is  large,"  saitl  Beauvallet,  "  but  because  it  is  his  principal  or- 
gan of  speech." — Editor. 


144  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS, 

affectionate,  and  be  sure  that  things  will  right  themselves 
better  than  you  expect." 

Samson  also  wrote,  but  simply  to  say  that  if  she  did  not 
come  back  at  once  all  the  terrors  of  the  law  would  be  invoked 
against  her.  Which  was  done.  The  Comedie-Fran9aise  insti- 
tuted proceedings,  claiming  two  hundred  thousand  francs  dam- 
ages, and  twenty  thousand  francs  "  a  titre  de  provision."  *  The 
court  cast  Mdlle.  Plessy  in  six  thousand  francs  provision,  defer- 
ring judgment  on  the  principal  claim.  Two  years  later  Mdlle. 
Plessy  returned  and  re-entered  the  fold.  Thanks  to  Sam- 
son, she  did  not  pay  a  single  farthing  of  damages,  and  the 
Comedie  bore  the  costs  of  the  whole  of  the  lawsuit.f 

Both  Samson  and  Regnier  were  very  proud  of  their  profes- 
sion, but  their  pride  showed  itself  in  different  ways.  Regnier 
would  have  willingly  made  any  one  an  actor — that  is,  a 
good  actor ;  he  was  always  teaching  a  great  many  amateurs, 
staging  and  superintending  their  performances.  Samson,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  no  sympathy  whatsoever  with  that  kind 
of  thing,  and  could  rarely  be  induced  to  give  it  aid,  but  he 
was  very  anxious  that  every  public  speaker  should  study  elo- 
cution. "  Eloquence  and  elocution  are  two  different  things," 
he  said ;  "  and  the  eloquent  man  who  does  not  study  elocu- 
tion, is  like  an  Apollo  with  a  bad  tailor,  and  who  dresses 
without  a  looking-glass.  I  go  further  still,  and  say  that 
every  one  ought  to  learn  how  to  speak,  not  necessarily  with 
the  view  of  amusing  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  but  with 
the  view  of  not  annoying  them.  I  am  a  busy  man,  but 
should  be  glad  to  devote  three  hours  a  week  to  teach  the  rising 
generation,  and  especially  the  humbler  ones,  how  to  speak." 

In  connection  with  that  wish  of  Samson,  that  every  man 
whose  duties  compelled  him,  or  who  voluntarily  undertook  to 
speak  in  public,  should  be  a  trained  elocutionist,  I  remember 
a  curious  story  of  which  I  was  made  the  recipient  quite  by 
accident.  It  was  in  the  year  '60,  one  morning  in  the  sum- 
mer, that  I  happened  to  meet  Samson  in  the  Rue  Vivienne. 
We  exchanged  a  few  words,  shook  hands,  and  each  went  his 
own  way.  In  the  afternoon  I  was  sitting  at  Tortoni's,  when  a 
gentleman  of  about  thirty-five  came  up  to  me.     "  Monsieur," 

*  Damages  claimed  by  one  of  the  parties,  pending  the  final  verdict — Ed- 
itor. 

+  Curiously  enough,  it  was  Emile  Augier's  "  Aventuriere "  that  caused 
Mdlle.  Plessy's  secession,  just  as  it  did  thirty-live  years  later,  in  the  case  of 
Mdlle.  Sarah  Berahardt. — Editor. 


SAMSON.  145 

he  said,  "  will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you  a  question  ?  "  "  Cer- 
tainly, monsieur,  if  it  be  one  I  can  answer,"  I  replied.  "  I 
believe,"  he  said,  "  that  I  saw  you  in  the  Rue  Vivienne  this 
morning  talking  to  some  one  whose  name  I  do  not  know, 
but  to  whom  I  am  under  great  obligations.  I  was  in  a  great 
hurry  and  in  a  cab,  and  before  I  could  stop  the  cabman  both 
of  you  had  disappeared.  Will  you  mind  telling  me  his 
name ?  "  "I  recollect  being  in  the  Rue  Vivienne  and  meet- 
ing with  M.  Samson  of  the  Coraedie-Fran9aise,"  I  answered. 
"  I  thought  so,"  remarked  my  interlocutor.  "  Allow  me  to 
thank  you,  monsieur."  With  this  he  lifted  his  hat  and  went 
out. 

The  incident  had  slipped  my  memory  altogether,  when  I 
was  reminded  of  it  by  Samson  himself,  about  three  weeks 
afterwards,  in  the  green-room  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise.  I 
had  been  there  but  a  few  moments  when  he  came  in.  "  You 
are  the  man  who  betrayed  me,"  he  said  with  a  chuckle.  "  I 
have  been  cudgelling  my  brain  for  the  last  three  weeks  as  to 
who  it  could  have  been,  for  I  spoke  to  no  less  than  half  a 
dozen  friends  and  acquaintances  in  the  Rue  Vivienne  on  the 
morning  I  met  you,  and  they  all  wear  imperials  and  mous- 
taches. A  nice  thing  you  have  done  for  me  ;  you  have  bur- 
dened me  with  a  grateful  friend  for  the  rest  of  my  life  ! " 

And  then  he  told  me  the  story,  how  two  years  before  he 
had  been  at  Granville  during  the  end  of  the  summer ;  how 
he  had  strolled  into  the  Palais  de  Justice  and  heard  the  pro- 
cureur-imperial  make  a  speech  for  the  prosecution,  the  deliv- 
ery of  which  would  have  disgraced  his  most  backward  pupil 
at  the  Conservatoire.  "  I  was  very  angry  with  the  fellow, 
and  felt  inclined  to  write  him  a  letter,  telling  him  that  there 
was  no  need  to  torture  the  innocent  audience,  as  well  as  the 
prisoner  in  the  dock.  I  should  have  signed  it.  I  do  not 
know  why  I  did  not,  but  judge  of  my  surprise  when,  the  same 
evening  at  dinner,  I  found  myself  seated  opposite  him.  I 
must  have  scowled  at  him,  and  he  repaid  scowl  for  scowl.  It 
appears  that  he  was  living  at  the  hotel  temporarily,  while  his 
wife  and  child  were  away.  I  need  not  tell  you  the  high 
opinion  our  judges  have  of  themselves,  and  I  dare  say  he 
thought  it  the  height  of  impertinence  that  I,  a  simple  mor- 
tal, should  stare  at  him.  I  soon  came  to  the  conclusion,  how- 
ever, that  if  I  wanted  to  spare  my  fellow-creatures  such  an 
infliction  as  I  had  endured  that  day,  I  ought  not  to  arouse 
the  man's  anger.  So  I  looked  more  mild,  then  entered  into 
1 


146     "  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

conversation  with  him.  You  should  have  seen  his  face  when 
I  began  to  criticize  his  tone  and  gestures.  But  he  evidently 
felt  that  I  was  somewhat  of  an  authority  on  the  subject,  and 
at  last  I  took  him  out  on  the  beach  and  gave  him  a  lesson  in 
delivering  a  speech,  and  left  him  there  without  revealing  my 
name.  Next  morning  I  went  away,  and  never  set  eyes  on 
him  again  until  three  weeks  ago,  when  he  left  his  card,  ask- 
ing for  an  interview.  He  is  a  very  intelligent  man,  and  has 
profited  by  the  first  lesson.  During  the  three  days  he  re- 
mained in  Paris  I  gave  him  three  more.  He  says  that  if  ever 
I  get  into  a  scrape,  he'll  do  better  than  defend  me — prosecute 
me,  and  I'm  sure  to  get  off." 

I  have  never  seen  Samson  give  a  lesson  at  the  Conserva- 
toire, but  I  was  present  at  several  of  Eegnier's,  thanks  to  Auber, 
whom  I  knew  very  well,  and  who  was  the  director,  and  to 
Eegnier  himself,  who  did  not  mind  a  stranger  being  present, 
provided  he  felt  certain  that  the  stranger  was  not  a  scoffer.  I 
believe  that  Samson  would  have  objected  without  reference  to 
the  stranger's  disposition  ;  at  any  rate,  Auber  hinted  as  much, 
so  I  did  not  prefer  my  request  in  a  direct  form. 

I  doubt,  moreover,  whether  a  lesson  of  Samson  to  his 
pupils  would  have  been  as  interesting  to  the  outsider  as  one 
of  Regnier's.  Of  all  the  gifts  that  go  to  the  making  of  a 
great  actor,  Eegnier  had  naturally  only  two — taste  and  in- 
telligence ;  the  others  were  replaced  by  what,  for  want  of  a 
better  term,  one  might  call  the  tricks  of  the  actor ;  their  ac- 
quisition demanded  constant  study.  For  instance,  Eegnier's 
appearance  off  the  stage  was  absolutely  insignificant;  his 
voice  was  naturally  husky  and  indistinct,  and,  moreover, 
what  the  French  call  nasillarde,  that  is,  produced  through  the 
nose.  His  features  were  far  from  mobile ;  the  eyes  were  not 
without  expression,  but  these  never  twinkled  with  merriment 
nor  shone  with  passion.  Consequently,  the  smallest  as  well 
as  largest  effect  necessary  to  the  interpretation  of  a  character 
had  to  be  thought  out  carefully  beforehand,  and  then  to  be 
tried  over  and  over  again  materially.  Each  of  his  inflections 
had  to  be  timed  to  a  second ;  but  when  all  this  was  accom- 
plished, the  picture  presented  by  him  was  so  perfect  as  to 
deceive  the  most  experienced  critic,  let  alone  an  audience, 
however  intelligent.  In  fact,  but  for  his  own  frank  admis- 
sion of  all  this,  his  contemporaries  and  posterity  would  have 
been  never  the  wiser,  for,  to  their  honour  be  it  said,  his  fellow- 
actors  were  so  interested  in  watching  him  "  manipulate  him- 


RfeGNIER  AND  HIS  ART.  14,7 

self,"  as  they  termed  it,  as  to  never  breathe  a  word  of  it  to 
the  outside  world.  They  all  acknowledged  that  they  had 
learned  something  from  him  during  rehearsal.  For  instance, 
in  one  of  his  best-known  characters,  that  of  the  old  servant 
in  Madame  de  Girardin's  "  La  Joie  fait  peur,"  *  there  is 
a  scene  which,  as  played  by  Eegnier  and  Delaunay,  looked 
to  the  spectator  absolutely  spontaneous.  The  smallest  detail 
had  been  minutely  regulated.  It  is  where  the  old  retainer, 
while  dusting  the  room,  is  talking  to  himself  about  his  young 
master.  Lieutenant  Adrien  Desaubiers,  who  is  reported  dead. 

"  I  can  see  him  now,"  says  Noel,  who  cannot  resign  him- 
self to  the  idea ;  "  I  can  see  him  now,  as  he  used  to  come  in 
from  his  long  walks,  tired,  starving,  and  shouting  before  he 
was  fairly  into  the  house.  '  Here  I  am,  my  good  Noel ;  I  am 
dying  with  hunger.  Quick !  an  omelette.' "  At  that  mo- 
ment the  young  lieutenant  enters  the  room,  and  having 
heard  Noel's  last  sentence,  repeats  it  word  for  word. 

Short  as  was  the  sentence,  it  had  been  arranged  that  De- 
launay should  virtually  cut  it  into  four  parts. 

At  the  words,  '■'•It  is  /,"  Eegnier  shivered  from  head  to 
foot ;  at  ^'•Here  I  am,  my  good  JVoel,'^  he  lifted  his  eyes  heav- 
enwards, to  make  sure  that  the  voice  did  not  come  from 
there,  and  that  he  was  not  labouring  under  a  kind  of  hallu- 
cination ;  at  the  words,  "/  am  dying  with  Tiunger^''  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  a  real  human  voice  after  all ; 
and  at  the  final,  "  Quick  1  an  omelette^''  he  turned  round 
quickly,  and  fell  like  a  log  into  the  young  fellow's  arms. 

I  repeat,  the  whole  of  the  scene  had  been  timed  to  the 
fraction  of  a  second  ;  nevertheless,  on  the  first  night,  Eegnier, 
nervous  as  all  great  actors  are  on  such  occasions,  forgot  all 
about  his  own  arrangements,  and,  at  the  first  sound  of  De- 
launay's  voice,  was  so  overcome  with  emotion  that  he  literally 
tumbled  against  the  latter,  who  of  course  was  not  prepared 
to  bear  him  up,  and  had  all  his  work  to  do  to  keep  himself 
from  falling  also.  Meanwhile  Eegnier  lay  stretched  at  full 
length  on  the  stage,  and  the  house  broke  into  tumultuous 
applause. 

"  That  was  magnificent,"  said  Delaunay  after  the  perform- 
ance.    "  Suppose  we  repeat  the  thing  to-morrow  ?  " 

*  There  are  several  English  versions  of  the  play,  and  I  am  under  the  im- 
pression that  the  late  Tom  Robertson  was  inspired  by  it  when  he  adapted 
"  Caste."  I  allude  to  that  scene  in  the  third  act,  where  George  d'Alroy  returns 
unexpectedly  and  where  Polly  Eccles  breaks  the  news  to  her  sister. — Editor. 


148  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

But  E^gnier  would  not  hear  of  it ;  he  stuck  to  his  original 
conception  in  four  tempi.  He  preferred  trusting  to  his  art 
rather  than  to  the  frank  promptings  of  nature. 

That  is  why  a  lesson  of  Regnier  to  his  pupils  was  so  in- 
teresting to  the  outsider.  The  latter  was,  as  it  were,  initiated 
into  all  the  resources  the  great  actor  has  at  his  command 
wherewith  to  produce  his  illusion  upon  the  public.  Among 
Regnier's  pupils  those  were  his  favourites  who  never  allowed 
themselves  to  be  carried  away  by  their  feelings,  and  who 
trusted  to  these  resources  as  indicated  to  them  by  their  tutor. 
He  was  to  a  certain  extent  doubtful  of  the  others.  "  Feel- 
ings vary ;  effects  intelligently  conceived,  studied,  and  carried 
out  ought  never  to  vary,"  he  said.  Consequently  it  became 
one  of  his  theories  that  those  most  plentifully  endowed  with 
natural  gifts  were  not  likely  to  become  more  perfect  than 
those  who  had  been  treated  niggardly  in  that  respect,  pro- 
vided the  vocation  and  the  perseverance  were  there.  The  re- 
verse of  Samson,  who  was  proudest  of  Rachel,  Regnier  was 
never  half  as  proud  of  M.  Coquelin  as  of  others  who  had  given 
him  far  more  trouble.  Augustine  Brohan  explained  the  feel- 
ing in  her  own  inimitable  way :  "  Regnier  est  comme  le  grand 
seigneur  qui  s'enamourache  d'une  paysanne  a  qui  il  faut  tout 
enseigner;  si  moi  j'etais  homme,  j'aimerais  mieux  une  de- 
moiselle de  bonne  famille,  qui  n'aurait  pas  besoin  de  tant 
d'enseignement." 

Mdlle.  Brohan  exaggerated  a  little  bit,  Regnier's  pupils 
were  not  peasant  children,  to  whom  he  had  to  teach  every- 
thing ;  a  great  many,  like  Coquelin,  required  very  little 
teaching,  and  all  the  others  had  the  receptive  qualities  which 
make  teaching  a  pleasure.  The  latter,  boys  and  girls,  had  to 
a  certain  extent  become  like  Regnier  himself,  "  bundles  of 
tricks,"  and,  what  is  perhaps  not  so  surprising  to  students  of 
psychology  and  physiology,  their  features  had  contracted  a 
certain  likeness  to  his.  At  the  first  blush  one  might  have 
mistaken  them  for  his  children.  And  they  might  have  been, 
for  the  patience  he  had  with  them.  It  was  rarely  exhausted, 
but  he  now  and  then  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  a  new  supply. 
At  such  times  there  was  a  frantic  clutch  at  the  shock,  grey- 
haired  head,  or  else  a  violent  blowing  of  the  perky  nose  in  a 
large  crimson  chequered  handkerchief,  its  owner  standing  all 
the  while  on  one  leg  ;  the  attitude  was  irresistibly  comic,  but 
the  pupils  were  used  to  it,  and  not  a  muscle  of  their  faces 
moved. 


HIS  PRIDE  IN   HIS  PROFESSION.  149 

Tliose  who  imagine  that  Regnier's  courses  were  merely  so 
many  lessons  of  elocution  and  gesticulation  would  be  alto- 
gether mistaken.  Eegnier,  unlike  many  of  his  great  fellow- 
actors  of  that  period,  had  received  a  good  education  :  he  had 
been  articled  to  an  architect,  he  had  even  dabbled  in  painting, 
and  there  were  few  historical  personages  into  whose  characters 
he  had  not  a  thorough  insight.  He  was  a  fair  authority  upon 
costume  and  manners  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  his  acquaint- 
ance Avith  Eoman  and  Greek  antiquities  would  have  done 
credit  to  many  a  professor.  He  was  called  "  le  comedien 
savant  "  and  "  le  savant  comedien."  As  such,  whenever  a 
pupil  failed  to  grasp  the  social  or  political  importance  of  one 
of  the  dramatis  persona  of  Eacine's  or  Corneille's  play,  there 
was  sure  to  be  a  disquisition,  telling  the  youngster  all  about 
him,  but  in  a  way  such  as  to  secure  the  attention  of  the 
listener — a  way  that  might  have  aroused  the  envy  of  a  uni- 
versity lecturer.  The  dry  bones  of  history  were  clothed  by  a 
man  with  an  eye  for  the  picturesque. 

"  Who  do  you  think  Augustus  was  ? "  he  said  one  day 
when  I  was  present,  to  the  pupil,  who  was  declaiming  some 
lines  of  "  Cinna."  "  Do  you  think  he  was  the  concierge  or 
le  commissionnaire  du  coin  ?  "  And  forthwith  there  was  a 
sketch  of  Augustus.  Absolutely  quivering  with  life,  he  led 
his  listener  through  the  streets  of  Eome,  entered  the  palace 
with  him,  and  once  there,  became  Augustus  himself.  After 
such  a  scene  he  would  frequently  descend  the  few  steps  of  the 
platform  and  drop  into  his  armchair,  exhausted. 

Every  now  and  then,  in  connection  with  some  character 
of  Moliere  or  Regnard,  there  would  be  an  anecdote  of  the 
great  interpreter  of  the  character,  but  an  anecdote  enacted, 
after  which  the  eyes  would  fill  with  tears,  and  the  ample 
chequered  handkerchief  come  into  requisition  once  more. 

Eegnier  was  a  great  favourite  with  most  of  his  fellow- 
actors  and  the  employes  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  but  he 
was  positively  worshipped  by  Giovanni,  the  wigmaker  of  the 
establishment.  They  were  in  frequent  consultation  even  in 
the  green-room,  the  privilege  of  admission  to  which  had  been 
granted  to  the  Italian  Figaro.  The  consultations  became 
most  frequent  when  one  of  the  members  undertook  a  part 
new  to  him.  It  was  often  related  of  Balzac  that  he  firmly 
believed  in  the  existence  of  the  characters  his  brain  had 
created.  The  same  might  be  said  of  Eegnier  with  regard  to 
the  characters  created  by  the  great  playwrights  of  his  own 


150  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

time  and  those  of  the  past.  Of  course,  I  am  not  speaking  of 
those  who  had  an  historical  foundation.  But  Alceste,  Harpa- 
gon,  Georges  Dandin,  Sganarelle,  and  Scapin  were  as  real  to 
him  as  Orestes  and  QLdipus,  as  Augustus  and  Mohammed. 
He  would  give  not  only  their  biographies,  but  describe  their 
appearance,  their  manners,  their  gait,  and  even  their  com- 
plexion. The  first  time  I  heard  him  do  so,  I  made  sure  that 
he  was  trying  to  mystify  Giovanni;  but  Rachel,  who  was 
present,  soon  undeceived  me.  x\nd  the  Italian  would  sit 
listening  reverently,  then  start  up,  and  exclaim,  "  Ze  sais  ce 
qu'il  vous  faut,  Monsu  Regnier,  ze  vais  faire  oune  parruque  a 
etonner  Moliere  lui-meme."  And  he  kept  his  word,  because 
he  considered  that  the  wig  contributed  as  much  to,  or  de- 
tracted from,  the  success  of  an  actor  as  his  diction,  and  more 
than  his  clothes.  When  Delaunay  became  a  societaire  his 
first  part  was  that  of  the  lover  in  M.  Viennet's  "  Migraine." 
"  Voila  Monsu  Delaunay,  oune  veritable  parruque  di  societaire. 
Zouez  a  present,  vous  6tes  sour  de  votre  affaire." 

One  day  Beauvallet  found  him  standing  before  the  win- 
dow of  Brandus,  the  music-publisher  in  the  Eue  de  Richelieu. 
He  was  contemplating  the  portrait  of  Rossini,  and  he  looked 
sad. 

"What  are  you  standing  there  for,  Giovanni?"  asked 
Beauvallet. 

"  Ah,  Monsu  Bouvallet,  I  am  looking  at  the  portrait  of 
Maestro  Giovanni  Rossini,  and  when  I  think  that  his  name 
is  Giovanni  like  mine,  when  I  see  that  abominable  wig  which 
looks  like  a  grass-plot  after  a  month  of  drought,  I  feel 
ashamed  and  sad.  But  I  will  go  and  see  him,  and  make  him 
a  wig  for  love  or  money  that  will  take  twenty  years  off  his 
age.  He  went,  but  Rossini  would  not  hear  of  it,  or  rather 
Madame  Rossini  put  a  spoke  in  his  wheel.  Giovanni  never 
mentioned  his  name  again.  It  was  Ligier  who  brought  Gio- 
vanni to  Paris,  and  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  worked  un- 
remittingly for  the  glory  of  the  Comedie-rran9aise,  and 
when  one  of  the  great  critics  happened  to  speak  favourably 
of  the  "  make-up "  of  an  actor,  as  Paul  de  St.  Victor  did 
when  R6gnier  "  created  Noel,"  Giovanni  used  to  leave  his 
card  at  his  house.  It  was  Giovanni  who  made  the  wigs  for 
M.  Ancessy,  the  musical  director  at  the  Odeon,  who,  under 
the  management  of  M.  Edouard  Thierry,  occupied  the  same 
position  at  the  Comedie-rran9aise.  M.  Ancessy  was  not  only 
a  good  chef  d'orchestre,  but  a  composer  of  talent;  but  he  had 


GIOVANNI  AND  REGNIER.  151 

one  great  weakness — he  was  as  bald  as  a  billiard-ball  and 
wished  to  pass  for  an  Absalom.'  Giovanni  helped  him  to 
carry  out  the  deception  by  making  three  artistic  wigs.  The 
first  was  of  very  short  hair,  and  was  worn  from  the  1st  to  the 
10th  of  the  month;  from  the  11th  to  the  20th  M.  Ancessy 
donned  one  with  hair  that  was  so  visibly  growing  as  to  cover 
his  ears.  From  the  20th  to  the  last  day  of  the  month  his 
locks  were  positively  flowing,  and  he  never  failed  to  say  on 
that  last  evening  in  the  hearing  of  every  one,  "  What  a  terri- 
ble nuisance  my  hair  is  to  me  !  I  must  have  it  cut  to-mor- 
row." 


152  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Two  composers,  Auber  and  F^licien  David — Auber,  the  legend  of  his  youthful 
appearance — How  it  arose — His  daily  rides,  his  love  of  women's  society — 
His  mot  on  Mozart's  "Don  Juan" — The  only  drawback  to  Auber's  enjoy- 
ment of  women's  society — His  reluctance  to  take  his  hat  off — How  he  man- 
aged to  keep  it  on  most  of  the  time — His  opinion  upon  Meyerbeer's  and 
Halevy's  genius — His  opinion  upon  Gerard  de  Nerval,  who  hanged  himself 
with  his  hat  on — His  love  of  solitude — His  fondness  of  Paris — His  griev- 
ance against  his  mother  for  not  having  given  him  birth  there — He  refuses 
to  leave  Paris  at  the  commencement  of  the  siege — His  small  appetite — He 
proposes  to  write  a  new  opera  when  the  Prussians  are  gone — Auber  stiffers 
no  privations,  but  has  difficulty  in  finding  fodder  for  his  horse — The  Pari- 
sians claim  it  for  food — Another  legend  about  Auber's  independence  of 
sleep — How  and  where  he  generally  slept — Why  Auber  snored  in  Veron's 
company,  and  why  he  did  not  in  that  of  other  people — His  capacity  for 
work — Auber  a  brilliant  talker — Auber's  gratitude  to  the  artists  who  inter- 
preted his  work,  but  different  from  Meyerbeer's — The  reason  why,  accord- 
mg  to  Auber — Jealousy  or  humility — Auber  and  the  younger  Coquelin — 
"  The  verdict  on  all  tilings  in  this  world  may  be  siunmed  up  in  the  one 
phrase, 'It's  an  injustice"' — F^licien  David — The  man — The  beginnings 
of  his  career — His  terrible  poverty — He  joins  the  Saint-Simoniens,  and  goes 
with  some  of  them  to  the  East — Their  reception  at  Constantinople — M. 
Scribe  and  the  libretto  of  "L'Africaine" — David  in  Egypt  at  the  court  of 
Mehemet-Ali — David's  description  of  him — Mehemet's  way  of  testing  the 
educational  progress  of  his  sons — Woe  to  the  fat  kine — Mehcmet-Ali  sug- 

Sests  a  new  mode  of  teaching  music  to  the  inmates  of  the  harem— F^licien 
►avid's  further  wanderings  in  Egypt— Their  effect  upon  his  musical  genius 
— His  return  to  France — He  tells  the  story  of  the  first  performance  of  "Le 
Ddsert " — An  ambulant  box-office — His  success — Fame,  but  no  money — He 
sells  the  score  of  "Le  Dfeert" — He  loses  his  savings— "La  Perle  du  Br6- 
sil "  and  the  Coup-d'Etat — "  No  luck  " — Napoleon  III.  remains  his  debtor 
for  eleven  years — A  mot  of  Auber,  and  one  of  Alexandre  Dumas  pere — 
The  story  of  "  Aida  " — Why  F61icieu  David  did  not  compose  the  music — 
The  real  author  of  the  libretto. 

I  KNEW  Auber  from  the  year  '42  or  '43  until  the  day  of 
his  death.  He  and  I  were  in  Paris  during  the  siege  and  the 
Commune ;  we  saw  one  another  frequently,  and  I  am  positive 
that  the  terrible  misfortunes  of  his  country  shortened  his  life 
by  at  least  ten  years.  For  though  at  the  beginning  of  the 
campaign  he  was  close  upon  ninety,  he  scarcely  looked  a 
twelvemonth  older  than  when  I  first  knew  him,  nearly  three 
decades  before ;  that  is,  a  very  healthy  and  active  old  man, 
but  still  an  old  man.     So  much  nonsense  has  been  written 


AUBER.  153 

about  his  perpetual  youth,  that  it  is  well  to  correct  the  error. 
But  the  ordinary  French  public,  and  many  journalists  be- 
sides, could  not  understand  an  octogenarian  being  on  horse- 
back almost  every  day  of  his  life,  any  more  than  they  under- 
stood later  on  M.  de  Lesseps  doing  the  same.  They  did  not 
and  do  not  know  M.  Mackenzie- Grieves,  and  half  a  dozen 
English  residents  in  Paris  of  a  similar  age,  who  scarcely  ever 
miss  their  daily  ride.  If  they  had  known  them,  they  might 
perhaps  have  been  less  loud  in  their  admiration  of  the  fact. 

What  added,  probably,  to  Auber's  reputation  of  possess- 
ing the  secret  of  perpetual  youth  was  his  great  fondness  for 
women's  society,  his  very  handsome  appearance,  though  he 
was  small  comparatively,  and  his  faultless  way  of  dressing. 
He  was  most  charming  with  the  fairer  sex,  and  many  of  the 
female  pupils  of  the  Conservatoire  positively  doted  on  him. 
Though  polite  to  a  degree  with  men — and  I  doubt  whether 
Auber  could  have  been  other  than  polite  with  no  matter 
whom — his  smiles,  I  mean  his  benevolent  ones,  for  he  could 
smile  very  sceptically,  were  exclusively  reserved  for  women. 
When  he  heard  Mozart's  "  Don  Juan  "  for  the  first  time,  he 
said,  "  This  is  the  music  of  a  lover  of  twenty,  and  if  a  man 
be  not  an  imbecile,  he  may  always  have  in  a  little  corner  of 
his  heart  the  sentiment  or  fancy  that  he  is  only  twenty." 

There  was  but  one  drawback  to  Auber's  enjoyment  of  the 
society  of  women — he  was  obliged  to  take  off  his  hat  in  their 
presence,  and  he  hated  being  without  that  article  of  dress. 
He  might  have  worn  a  skull-cap  at  home,  though  there  was 
no  necessity  for  it,  as  far  as  his  hair  was  concerned,  for  up  to 
the  last  he  was  far  from  bald ;  but  he  wanted  his  hat.  He 
composed  with  his  hat  on,  he  had  his  meals  with  his  hat  on, 
and  though  he  would  have  frequently  preferred  to  take  his 
seat  in  the  stalls  or  balcony  of  a  theatre,  he  invariably  had  a 
box,  and  generally  one  on  the  stage,  in  order  to  keep  his  hat 
on.  He  would  often  stand  for  hours  on  the  balcony  of  his 
house  in  the  Eue  Saint-Georges  with  his  hat  on.  "  I  never 
feel  as  much  at  home  anywhere,  not  even  in  my  own  apart- 
ment, as  in  the  synagogue,"  he  said  one  day.  He  frequently 
went  there  for  no  earthly  reason  than  because  he  could  sit 
among  a  lot  of  people  with  his  hat  on.  In  fact,  those  fre- 
quent visits,  coupled  with  his  dislike  to  be  bareheaded,  made 
people  wonder  now  and  then  whether  Auber  was  a  Jew.  The 
supposition  always  made  Auber  smile.  "  That  would  have 
meant  the  genius  of  a  Meyerbeer,  a  Mendelssohn,  or  a  Hale- 


154  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

vy,"  he  said.  "  No,  I  have  been  lucky  enough  in  my  life, 
but  such  good  fortune  as  that  never  fell  to  my  lot."  For 
there  was  no  man  so  willing — nay,  anxious — to  acknowledge 
the  merit  of  others  as  Auber.  But  Auber  was  not  a  Jew,  and 
his  mania  for  keeping  on  his  hat  had  nothing  to  do  with  his 
religion.  It  was  simjDly  a  mania,  and  nothing  more.  When, 
in  January,  '55,  Gerard  de  Nerval  was  found  suspended  from 
a  lamp-post  in  the  Kue  de  la  Vieille-Lanterne,  he  had  his  hat 
on  his  head ;  his  friends,  and  even  the  police,  pretended  to 
argue  from  this  that  he  had  not  committed  suicide,  but  had 
been  murdered.  "  A  man  who  is  going  to  hang  himself  does 
not  keep  his  hat  on,"  they  said.  "  Pourquoi  pas,  mon  Dieu  ?  " 
asked  Auber,  simply.  "If  I  were  going  to  kill  myself,  I 
should  certainly  keep  my  hat  on."  In  short,  it  was  the  only 
thing  about  Auber  which  could  not  be  explained. 

Auber  was  exceedingly  fond  of  society,  and  yet  he  was 
fond  of  solitude  also.  Many  a  time  his  friends  reported  that, 
returning  home  late  from  a  party,  they  found  Auber  standing 
opposite  his  house  in  the  Rue  Saint-Georges,  with  apparently 
no  other  object  than  to  contemplate  it  from  below.  After 
his  return  to  Paris  from  London,  whither  he  had  been  sent 
by  his  father,  in  order  to  become  conversant  with  English 
business  habits,  he  never  left  the  capital  again,  though  at  the 
end  of  his  life  he  regretted  not  having  been  to  Italy.  It  was 
because  Rossini,  who  was  one  of  his  idols,  had  said  "  that  a 
musician  should  loiter  away  some  of  his  time  under  that 
sky."  But  almost  immediately  he  comforted  himself  with 
the  thought  that  Paris,  after  all,  was  the  only  city  worth  liv- 
ing in.  "  I  was  very  fond  of  my  mother,  but  I  have  one 
grievance  against  her  memory.  What  did  she  want  to  go  to 
Caen  for  just  at  the  moment  when  I  was  about  to  be  bom? 
But  for  that  I  should  have  been  a  real  Parisian."  I  do  not 
think  it  made  much  difference,  for  I  never  knew  such  an  in- 
veterate Parisian  as  Auber.  When  the  investment  of  Paris 
had  become  an  absolute  certainty,  some  of  his  friends  pressed 
him  to  leave ;  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  They  predicted  dis- 
comfort, famine,  and  what-not.  "The  latter  contingency 
will  not  affect  me  much,  seeing  that  I  eat  but  once  a  day, 
and  very  little  then.  As  for  the  sound  of  the  firing  disturb- 
ing me,  I  do  not  think  it  will.  It  has  often  been  said  that 
the  first  part  of  my  overture  to  '  Fra  Diavolo  '  was  inspired 
by  the  retreating  tramp  of  the  regiment ;  there  may  be  some 
truth  in  it.    If  it  be  vouchsafed  to  me  to  hear  the  retreating 


AUBER'S  INDEPENDENCE  OP  SLEEP.  I55 

tramp  of  the  Germans,  I  will  write  an  overture  and  an  opera, 
which  will  be  something  different,  I  promise  you." 

I  do  not  suppose  that,  personally,  Auber  suffered  any  pri- 
vations during  the  siege.  A  man  in  his  position,  who  re- 
quired but  one  meal  a  day,  and  that  a  very  light  one,  was 
sure  to  find  it  somewhere  ;  but  he  had  great  trouble  to  find 
sufficient  fodder  for  his  old  faithful  hack,  that  had  carried 
him  for  years,  and  when,  after  several  months  of  scheming 
and  contriving  to  that  effect,  he  was  forced  to  give  it  up  as 
food  for  others,  his  cup  of  bitterness  was  full.  "  lis  m'ont 
pris  mon  vieux  cheval  pour  le  manger,"  he  repeated,  when  I 
saw  him  after  the  event ;  "  je  I'avais  depuis  vingt  ans."  It 
was  really  a  great  blow  to  him. 

There  is  another  legend  about  Auber  which  is  not  founded 
upon  facts,  namely,  that  he  was  pretty  well  independent  of 
sleep.  It  was  perfectly  true  that  he  went  to  bed  very  late 
and  rose  very  early,  but  most  people  have  overlooked  the 
fact  that  during  the  evening  he  had  had  a  comfortable  doze, 
of  at  least  an  hour  and  a  half  or  two  hours,  at  the  theatre. 
He  rarely  missed  a  performance  at  the  Opera  or  Opera-Co- 
mique,  except  when  his  own  work  was  performed.  And 
during  that  time  he  slumbered  peacefully,  "  en  homme  du 
monde,"  said  Nestor  Roqueplan,  "  without  snoring." 

"  I  never  knew  what  it  meant  to  snore,"  said  Auber, 
apologetically,  "  until  I  took  to  sleeping  in  Veron's  box ;  and 
as  it  is,  I  do  not  snore  now  except  under  provocation.  But 
there  would  be  no  possibility  of  sleeping  by  the  side  of 
Veron  without  snoring.  You  have  to  drown  his,  or  else  it 
would  awaken  you." 

Auber  was  a  brilliant  talker,  but  he  scarcely  ever  liked  to 
exert  himself  except  on  the  suljject  of  music.  It  was  all  in 
all  to  him,  and  the  amount  of  work  he  did  must  have  been 
something  tremendous.  There  are  few  students  of  the  his- 
tory of  operatic  music,  no  matter  how  excellent  their  memo- 
ries, who  could  give  the  complete  list  of  Auber's  works  by 
heart.  We  tried  it  once  in  1850,  when  that  list  was  much 
shorter  than  it  is  now ;  there  was  not  a  single  one  who  gave 
it  correctly.  The  only  one  who  came  within  a  measureable 
distance  was  Roger,  the  tenor. 

In  spite  of  his  world-wide  reputation,  even  at  that  time, 
Auber  was  as  modest  about  his  work  as  Meyerbeer,  but  he 
had  more  confidence  in  himself  than  the  latter.  Auber  was 
by  no  means  ungrateful  to  the  artists  who  contributed  to  his 


156  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

success ;  "  but  I  don't '  coddle '  them,  and  put  them  in  cot- 
ton-wool, like  Meyerbeer,"  he  said.  "  It  is  perfectly  logical 
that  he  should  do  so.  The  Nourrits,  the  Levasseurs,  the 
Viardot-Garcias,  and  the  Rogers,  are  not  picked  up  at  street- 
comers  ;  but  bring  me  the  lirst  urchin  you  meet,  who  has  a 
decent  voice,  and  a  fair  amount  of  intelligence,  and  in  six 
months  he'll  sing  the  most  difficult  part  I  ever  wrote,  with 
the  exception  of  that  of  Masaniello.  My  operas  are  a  kind 
of  warming-pan  for  great  singers.  There  is  something  in 
being  a  good  warming-pan." 

At  the  first  blush,  this  sounds  something  like  jealousy  in 
the  guise  of  humility,  but  I  am  certain  that  there  was  no 
jealousy  in  Auber's  character.  Few  men  have  been  so  uni- 
formly successful,  but  he  also  had  his  early  struggles,  "  when 
perhaps  I  did  better  work  than  I  have  done  since."  The  last 
sentence  was  invariably  trolled  out  when  a  pupil  of  the  Con- 
servatoire complained  to  him  of  having  been  unjustly  dealt 
with.  I  remember  Coquelin  the  younger  competing  for  the 
"  prize  of  Comedy "  in  '65  or  '66.  He  did  not  get  it,  and 
when  we  came  out  of  Auber's  box  at  the  Conservatoire,  the 
young  fellow  came  up  to  him  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  I  fancy 
they  were  tears  of  anger  rather  than  of  sorrow. 

"  Ah,  Monsieur  Auber,"  he  exclaimed,  "  that's  an  injus- 
tice!" 

"  Perhaps  so,  my  dear  lad,"  replied  Auber ;  "  but  remem- 
ber that  the  verdict  on  all  things  in  this  world  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  words  you  have  just  uttered, '  It's  an  injus- 
tice.' Let  me  give  you  a  bit  of  advice.  If  you  mean  to  become 
a  good  Figaro,  you  must  be  the  first  to  laugh  at  an  injustice 
instead  of  weeping  over  it."  Wherewith  he  turned  his  back 
upon  the  now  celebrated  comedian.  In  the  course  of  these 
notes  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of  Auber  again. 

Auber  need  not  have  generalized  to  young  Coquelin  ;  he 
might  have  cited  one  instance  of  injustice  in  his  own  profes- 
sion, to  which,  fortunately,  there  was  no  parallel  for  at  least 
thirty  years.  In  the  forties  the  critics  refused  to  recognize 
the  genius  of  Felicien  David,  just  as  they  had  refused  to 
recognize  the  genius  of  Hector  Berlioz.  In  the  seventies 
they  were  morally  guilty  of  the  death  of  Georges  Bizet,  the 
composer  of  "  Carmen." 

I  knew  little  or  nothing  of  Hector  Berlioz,  but  I  fre- 
quently met  Felicien  David  at  Auber's.  It  was  a  pity  to  be- 
hold the  man  even  after  his  success — a  success  which,  how- 


FELICIEN  DAVID.  157 

ever,  did  not  put  money  in  his  purse.  His  moral  sufferings, 
his  material  privations,  had  left  their  traces  but  too  plainly 
on  the  face  as  well  as  on  the  mind.  David  had  positively 
starved  in  order  to  buy  the  few  books  and  the  paper  neces- 
sary to  his  studies,  and  yet  he  had  the  courage  to  say,  "  If  I 
had  to  begin  over  again,  I  would  do  the  same."  The  respect- 
ability that  drives  a  gig  when  incarnated  in  parents  who  re- 
fuse to  believe  in  the  power  of  soaring  of  their  offspring 
because  they,  the  parents,  cannot  see  the  wings,  has  assur- 
edly much  to  answer  for.  Flotow's  father  stops  the  supplies 
after  seven  years,  because  his  son  has  not  come  up  to  time 
like  a  race-horse.  Berlioz'  father  does  not  give  him  so  long 
a  shrift ;  he  allows  him  three  months  to  conquer  fame.  Fe- 
licien  David  had  no  father  to  help  or  to  thwart  him  in  his 
ambition.  He  was  an  orphan  at  the  age  of  five,  and  left  to 
the  care  of  a  sister,  who  was  too  poor  to  help  him ;  but  he 
had  an  uncle  who  was  well-to-do,  and  who  allowed  him  the 
magnificent  sum  of  fifty  francs  per  month — for  a  whole 
quarter — and  tlien  withdrew  it,  notwithstanding  the  assur- 
ance of  Cherubini  that  the  young  fellow  had  the  making  of 
a  great  composer  in  him.  And  the  worst  is  that  these  young 
fellows  suffer  in  silence,  while  there  are  hundreds  of  benevo- 
lent rich  men  who  would  willingly  open  their  purses  to  them. 
When  they  do  reveal  their  distressed  condition,  it  is  gener- 
ally to  some  one  as  poor  as  themselves.  These  rich  men  buy 
the  autographs  of  the  deceased  genius  for  small  or  large  sums 
which  would  have  provided  the  struggling  ones  with  com- 
forts for  days  and  days.  I  have  before  me  such  a  letter  which 
I  bought  for  ten  francs.  I  would  willingly  have  given  ten 
times  the  amount  not  to  have  bought  it.  It  is  written  to  a 
friend  of  his  youth.  "As  for  money,"  it  says,  "  seeing  that 
I  am  bound  to  speak  of  it,  things  are  going  from  bad  to  worse. 
And  it  is  very  certain  that  in  a  little  while  I  shall  have  to 
give  it  up  altogether.  I  have  been  ill  for  three  weeks  with 
pains  in  the  back,  and  fever  and  ague  everywhere.  I  dare 
say  that  my  illness  was  brought  on  by  my  worries,  and  by 
the  bad  food  of  the  Paris  restaurants,  also  by  the  constant 
dampness.  Why  am  I  not  a  little  better  off?  I  fancy  that 
the  slight  comforts  an  artist  may  reasonably  expect  would 
do  me  a  great  deal  of  good.  I  am  not  speaking  of  the 
body,  though  it  is  a  part  of  ourselves  which  considerably 
affects  our  intellect,  but  my  imagination  would  be  the  better 
for  it,  for  how  can  my  brain,  constantly  occupied  as  it  is  with 


158  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  worry  of  material  wants,  act  unhampered  ?  Really,  I  do 
not  hesitate  to  say  that  poverty  and  privation  kill  the  imagi- 
nation." 

They  did  not  kill  the  imagination  in  David's  case,  but 
they  undermined  his  constitution.  It  was  at  that  period  that 
he  fell  in  with  the  Saint-Simoniens,  to  the  high  priest  of 
which,  M.  Enfantin,  who  eventually  became  the  chairman  of 
the  Paris,  Lyons,  and  Mediterranean  Railway  Company,  he 
took  me  many  years  later.  After  their  dispersion,  the  group 
to  which  he  belonged  went  to  the  East,  and  it  is  to  this  ap- 
parently fortuitous  circumstance  that  the  world  owes  not 
only  "  Le  Desert,"  "  La  Perle  du  Bresil,"  and  "  L'Eden,"  but 
probably  also  Meyerbeer's  "  Af ricaine."  Meyerbeer  virtually 
acknowledged  that  but  for  David's  scores,  so  replete  with  the 
poetry  of  the  Orient,  he  would  have  never  thought  of  such  a 
subject  for  one  of  his  operas.  M.  Scribe,  on  the  other  hand, 
always  maintained  that  the  idea  emanated  from  him,  and 
that  it  dated  from  1847,  when  the  composer  was  given  the 
choice  between  "  La  Prophete "  and  "  L'Africaine,"  and 
chose  the  former.  One  might  almost  paraphrase  the  accusa- 
tion of  the  wolf  against  the  lamb  in  La  Fontaine's  fable. 
"  M.  Scribe,  if  you  did  not  owe  your  idea  to  Felicien  David, 
you  owed  it  to  Montigny,  the  director  of  the  Gymnase,  who 
in  the  thirties  produced  a  play  with  a  curious  name,  and  a 
more  curious  plot,  at  the  Ambigu-Comique."*  One  thing 
is  certain,  that  "  L'Africaine  "  was  discarded,  if  ever  it  was 
offered,  and  would  never  have  been  thought  of  again  but  for 
Meyerbeer's  intense  and  frankly  acknowledged  admiration  of 
Felicien  David's  genius. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Felicien  David,  whose  melan- 
choly vanished  as  if  by  magic  when  he  related  his  wanderings 


*  I  have  taken  some  ^ains  to  unearth  this  play.  It  was  called  "  Amazampo ; 
or,  The  Discovery  of  Quinine."  The  scene  was  laid  in  Peru  in  1636.  Ama- 
zampo, the  chief  of  a  Peruvian  tribe,  is  in  love  with  Maida,  who  on  her  part  is 
in  love  with  Ferdinand,  the  son  of  the  viceroy.  Amazampo  is  heart-broken, 
and  is  stricken  down  with  fever.  In  his  despair  and  partial  delirium  he  tries 
to  poison  himself,  and  drinks  the  water  of  a  pool  in  which  several  trunks  of  a 
tree  called  hina,  reported  poisonous,  have  been  lying  for  years.  He  feels  the 
effect  almost  immediately,  but  not  the  effect  he*  expected.  He  recovers,  and 
takes  advantage  of  his  recovered  health  to  forget  his  love  passion,  and  to  be 
avenged  upon  the  oppressors  of  his  country,  many  of  whom  are  dying  with 
fever.  Lima  becomes  a  huge  cemetery.  Then  the  wife  of  the  viceroy  is  stricken 
down.  Maida  wishes  to  save  her,  but  is  forestalled  by  Amazampo,  who  compels 
Dona  Theodora  to  drink  the  liquor,  and  so  forth.  But  Amazampo  and  Maida 
die. — Editor. 


DAVID  AND  THE  SAINT-SIMONIENS.'  159 

in  the  East.  I  do  not  mean  the  poetical  side  of  them,  which 
inspired  him  with  his  great  compositions,  but  the  ludicrous 
one.  I  do  not  remember  the  dress  of  the  Saint-Simoniens,  I 
was  too  young  at  the  time  to  have  noticed  it,  but  am  told  it 
consisted  of  a  blue  tunic  and  trousers  to  match,  a  scarlet  jer- 
sey, which  buttoned  at  the  back,  and  could  not  be  undone 
except  with  the  aid  of  some  one  else.  It  was  meant  to  sym- 
bolize mutual  dependence  upon  one  another,  "As  far  as 
Marseilles  everything  went  comparatively  well,"  said  David  ; 
"  we  lived  by  giving  concerts,  and  though  the  receipts  were 
by  no  means  magnificent,  they  kept  the  wolf  from  the  door. 
Our  troubles  began  at  Constantinople.  "Whether  they  did  not 
like  our  music,  or  ourselves,  or  our  dresses,  I  hav^ever  been 
able  to  make  out,  but  we  were  soon  denounced  to  the  authori- 
ties, and  marched  off  to  prison,  though  our  incarceration  did 
not  last  more  than  a  couple  of  hours,  thanks  to  our  ambassa- 
dor, Admiral  Roussin.  Our  liberation,  however,  w&s  condi- 
tional ;  we  had  to  leave  at  once.  We  made  our  way  to  Smyr- 
na, where  my  music  seemed  to  meet  with  a  little  more  favour. 
I  performed  every  night,  but  in  the  open  air,  and  some  one 
took  the  hat  round.  Just  as  if  we  had  been  a  company  of 
ambulant  musicians  to  the  manner  born.  We  were,  however, 
not  altogether  unhappy,  for  we  had  enough  to  eat  and  to 
drink,  which  with  me,  at  any  rate,  was  a  paramount  consid- 
eration. Up  till  then  sufficient  food  had  not  been  a  daily 
item  in  my  programme  of  life.  My  companions,  neverthe- 
less, became  restless ;  they  said  they  had  not  come  to  eat  and 
drink  and  play  music,  but  to  convert  the  most  benighted 
part  of  Europe  to  their  doctrines ;  so  we  moved  to  Jaffa  and 
Jerusalem,  then  to  Alexandria,  and  finally  to  Cairo.  By  the 
time  we  got  there,  only  three  of  us  were  left ;  the  rest  had 
gone  homeward.  Koenig-Bey  had  just  at  that  moment  un- 
dertaken the  twition  of  Mehemet- All's  children — there  were 
between  sixty  and  seventy  at  that  time ;  it  was  he  who  pre- 
sented me  to  their  father,  with  a  view  of  my  becoming  the 
professor  of  music  to  the  inmates  of  the  harem.  "  It  is  of  no 
use  to  try  to  get  you  the  appointment  of  professor  of  music 
to  the  young  princes,  because  Mehemet,  though  intelligent 
enough,  would  certainly  not  hear  of  it.  He  would  not  think 
it  necessary  that  a  man-child  should  devote  himself  to  so 
effeminate  an  accomplishment.  I  am  translating  his  own 
thoughts  on  the  subject,  not  mine.  When  I  tell  you  that 
my  monthly  report  about  their  intellectual  progress  is  invari- 


k 


160  •         AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

ably  waved  off  with  the  words,  "  Tell  me  how  much  they 
have  gained  or  lost  in  weight,"  you  will  understand  that  I  am 
not  speaking  at  random.  The  viceroy  thinks  that  hard  study 
should  produce  a  corresponding  decrease  in  weight,  which  is 
not  always  the  case,  for  those  more  or  less  inclined  to  obesity 
make  flesh  in  virtue  of  their  sitting  too  much.  Consequent- 
ly the  fat  kine  have  a  very  bad  time  of  it,  and  among  the  lat- 
ter is  one  of  the  most  intelligent  boys,  Mohammed-Said.'  " 

"  Those  who  would  infer  from  this,"  said  David  one  day, 
referring  to  the  same  subject,  "  that  Mehemet-Ali  was  lack- 
ing in  intelligence,  would  commit  a  grave  error.  I  am  con- 
vinced, from  the  little  I  saw  of  him,  that  he  was  a  man  of 
very  great  "ftatural  parts.  His  features,  though  not  absolutely 
handsome,  were  very  striking  and  expressive.  He  was  over 
sixty  then,  but  looked  as  if  he  could  bear  any  amount  of  fa- 
tigue. His  constitution  must  originally  have  been  an  iron 
one.  Instead  of  the  Oriental  repose  which  I  expected,  there 
was  a  kind  of  semi-European,  semi-military  stiffness  about 
him,  which,  however,  soon  wore  off  in  conversation.  I  say 
advisedly  conversation,  albeit  that  he  did  not  understand  a 
word  of  French,  which  was  the  only  language  I  spoke,  and 
that  I  could  not  catch  a  word  of  his.  But  in  spite  of  Koenig- 
Bey's  acting  the  interpreter,  it  was  a  conversation  between  us 
both.  He  seemed  to  catch  the  meaning  of  my  words  the  mo- 
ment they  left  my  lips,  and  every  now  and  then  smiled  at  my 
remarks.  He  as  it  were  read  the  thoughts  that  provoked 
them,  and  I  do  not  wonder  at  his  having  been  amused,  for  I 
myself  was  never  so  amused  in  my  life.  Perhaps  you  will  be, 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  was  not  to  see  the  ladies  I  had  to  teach ; 
my  instruction  was  to  be  given  to  the  eunuchs,  who,  in  their 
turn,  had  to  transmit  them  to  the  viceroy's  wives  and  daugh- 
ters. Of  course,  I  tried  to  point  out  the  impossibility  of  such 
a  system,  but  Mehemet-Ali  shook  his  head  ^vith  a  knowing 
smile.  That  was  the  only  way  he  would  have  his  womenkind 
initiated  into  the  beauties  of  Mozart  and  Mendelssohn.  I 
need  not  tell  you  that  the  arrangement  came  to  nought." 

Nearly  all  these  conversations  which  I  have  noted  down 
here,  without  much  attempt  at  transition,  took  place  at  dif- 
ferent times.  One  day,  when  he  was  relating  some  experi- 
ences of  his  wanderings  through  the  less  busy  haunts  of 
Egypt,  I  happened  to  say,  "  After  all.  Monsieur  David,  they 
did  you  good;  they  inspired  you  with  the  themes  of  your  most 
beautiful  works." 


FIRST  PERFORMANCE  OF  "LE  DESERT."  161 

It  was  a  very  bitter  smile  that  played  on  his  lips,  but  only 
for  a  moment ;  the  next  his  face  resumed  its  usual  melan- 
choly expression.  "  Yes,  they  did  me  good.  Do  you  know 
what  occurred  on  the  eve  of  the  first  performance  of  '  Le  De- 
sert,' on  the  morrow  of  which  I  may  say  without  undue  pride 
that  I  found  myself  famous  ?  AVell,  I  will  tell  you.  But  for 
Azevedo,  I  should  have  gone  supperless  that  night.*  I  met 
him  on  the  Boulevards,  and  I  almost  forced  him  to  take  some 
tickets,  for  I  was  hungry  and  desperate.  I  had  been  running 
about  that  morning  to  dispose  of  some  tickets  for  love  or 
money,  for  what  I  feared  most  was  an  empty  house.  I  had 
sold  half  a  dozen,  perhaps,  but  no  one  had  paid  me.  Azevedo 
said,  '  Yes,  send  me  some  this  afternoon.'  '  I  can  give  them 
to  you  now,'  I  replied,  '  for  I  carry  my  box  office  upon  me.' 
Then  he  understood,  and  gave  me  the  money.  May  God  bless 
him  for  it,  for  ever  and  ever  ! 

"  Now  would  you  like  to  hear  what  happened  after  the 
performance  ?  "  he  continued.  "  The  place  was  full  and  the 
applause  tremendous.  Next  morning  the  papers  were  full  of 
my  name ;  I  was,  according  to  most  of  them,  '  a  revelation  in 
music'  But  for  all  that  I  was  living  in  an  attic  on  a  fifth 
floor,  and  had  not  sufficient  money  to  pay  my  orchestra,  let 
alone  to  arrange  for  another  concert.  As  for  the  score  of  '  Le 
Desert,'  it  went  the  round  of  every  publisher  but  one,  and  was 
declined  by  all  these.  At  last  the  firm  of  Escudier  offered  me 
twelve  hundred  francs  for  it,  which,  of  course,  I  was  glad  to 
take.  They  behaved  handsomely  after  all,  because  they  ar- 
ranged for  a  series  of  performances  of  it,  which  I  was  to  direct 
at  a  fee  of  a  thousand  francs  per  performance.  Those  good 
Saint-Simoniens,  the  Pereiras,  Enfantin,  Michel  Chevalier, 
had  not  lifted  a  finger  to  help  me  in  my  need  ;  nevertheless, 
I  was  not  going  to  condemn  good  principles  on  account  of  the 
men  who  represented  them  not  very  worthily.  Do  you  know 
what  was  the  result  of  this  determination  not  to  be  unjust  if 
others  were  ?  I  embarked  my  little  savings  in  a  concern  pre- 
sided over  by  one  of  them.  I  lost  every  penny  of  it ;  since 
then  I  have  never  been  able  to  save  a  penny." 

Felicien  David  was  right — he  never  made  money ;  first  of 
all,  "  because,"  as  Auber  said,  "  he  was  too  great  an  artist  to 


*  Alexis  Azevedo,  one  of  the  best  musical  critics  of  the  time,  as  enthusiastic 
in  his  likes  as  unreasoning  in  his  dislikes.  He  became  a  fervent  admirer  of 
Felicien  David. — Editor.    ■ 


162  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

be  popular ; "  secondly,  because  the  era  of  cantatas  and  ora- 
torios had  not  set  in  in  France ;  thirdly,  because  he  composed 
very  slowly ;  and  fourthly,  "  because  he  had  no  luck."  The 
performances  of  his  principal  theatrical  work  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  Coup-d'Etat.  I  am  alluding  to  "  La  Perle  du 
Bresil,"  which,  though  represented  at  the  Opera-Comique  in 
1850,  only  ran  for  a  few  nights  there,  divergencies  of  opinion 
having  arisen  between  the  composer  and  M.  Emile  Perrin, 
who  was  afterwards  director  of  the  Grand  Opera,  and  finally 
of  the  Comedie-Frangaise.  When  it  was  revived,  on  Novem- 
ber 22,  1851,  the  great  event  which  was  to  transform  the 
second  republic  into  the  second  empire  was  looming  on  the 
horizon.  In  1862,  Napoleon  III.  made  Felicien  David  an 
officer  of  the  Legion  d'Honneur;  Louis-Philippe  had  be- 
stowed the  knighthood  upon  him  in  '46  or  '47,  after  a  per- 
formance of  his  "  Christophe  Colomb "  at  the  Tuileries. 
When  Auber  was  told  of  the  honour  conferred,  he  said, 
"  Napoleon  is  worse  than  the  fish  with  the  ring  of  Polycrates ; 
it  did  not  take  him  eleven  years  to  bring  it  back."  Alex- 
andre Dumas  opined  that  "  it  was  a  pearl  hid  in  a  dunghill 
for  a  decade  or  more."  When,  towards  the  end  of  the  Em- 
pire, a  street  near  the  projected  opera  building  was  named 
after  Auber,  and  when  he  could  see  his  bust  on  the  f a9ade  of 
the  building,  the  scaffolding  of  which  had  been  removed, 
Auber  remarked  that  the  Emperor  had  been  good  enough  to 
give  him  credit.  "  Now  we  are  quits,"  he  added,  "  for  he 
was  David's  debtor  for  eleven  years.  At  any  rate,  I'll  do  my 
best  to  square  the  account,  so  you  need  not  order  any  hat- 
bands until  '79."  When  '79  came,  he  had  been  in  his  tomb 
for  nearly  eight  years. 

I  wrote  Just  now  that  Felicien  David  composed  very 
slowly.  But  for  this  defect,  if  it  was  one,  Verdi  would  have 
never  put  his  name  to  the  score  of  "  Aida."  The  musical 
encyclopedias  will  tell  you  that  Signer  Ghislanzoni  is  the 
author  of  the  libretto,  and  that  the  khedive  applied  to 
Signer  Verdi  for  an  opera  on  an  Egyptian  subject.  The 
first  part  of  that  statement  is  utterly  untrue,  the  other  part 
is  but  partially  true.  Signor  Ghislanzoni  is  at  best  but  the 
adapter  in  verse  and  translator  of  the  libretto.  The  original 
in  prose  is  by  M.  Camille  du  Locle,  founded  on  the  scenario 
supplied  by  Mariette-Bey,  whom  Ismail-Pasha  had  given 
carte  blanche  with  regard  to  the  music  and  words.  Mariette- 
Bey  intended  from  the  very  first  to  apply  to  a  French  play- 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  VERDI'S  "AIDA."  163 

Wright,  when  one  night,  being  belated  at  Memphis  in  the 
Serapeum,  and  unable  to  return  on  foot,  he  all  at  once  re- 
membered an  old  Egyptian  legend.  Next  day  he  committed 
the  scenario  of  it  to  paper,  showed  it  to  the  khedive,  and  ten 
copies  of  it  were  printed  in  Alexandria.  One  of  these  was 
sent  to  M.  du  Locle,  who  developed  the  whole  in  prose. 

M.  du  Locle  had  also  been  authorized  to  find  a  French 
composer,  but  it  is  very  certain  that  Mariette-Bey  had  in  his 
mind's  eye  the  composer  of  "  Le  Desert,"  though  he  may  not 
have  expressly  said  so.  At  any  rate,  M.  du  Locle  applied  to 
David,  who  refused,  although  the  "  retaining  fee  "  was  fifty 
thousand  francs.  It  was  because  he  could  not  comply  with 
the  first  and  foremost  condition,  to  have  the  score  ready  in 
six  months  at  the  latest.  Then  Wagner  was  thought  of.  It 
is  most  probable  that  he  would  have  refused.  To  Mariette- 
Bey  belongs  the  credit  furthermore  of  having  entirely  stage- 
managed  the  opera. 

Thus  Felicien  David,  who  had  revealed  "the  East  in 
music  "  to  the  Europeans,  no  more  reaped  the  fruits  of  his 
originality  than  Decamps,  who  had  revealed  it  in  painting: 
Was  not  Auber  right  when  he  said  to  young  Coquelin  that 
the  verdict  on  all  things  in  this  world  might  be  summed  up 
in  the  one  phrase,  "  It's  an  injustice"? 


164  -A-N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

Three  painters,  and  a  school  for  piflferari — Gabriel  Decamps,  Euff^ne  Delacroix, 
and  Horace  Vemet — The  prices  of  pictures  in  the  forties — Delacroix'  find  no 
purchiisei-s  at  all — Decamps'  drawings  fetch  a  thousand  francs  eacli — De- 
camps not  a  happy  man — The  cause  of  his  unhappiness — The  man  and  the 
painter — He  finds  no  pleasure  in  being  popular — Eugene  Delacroix — His  con- 
tempt for  the  bourgeoisie — A  parallel  between  Delacroix  and  Shakespeare — • 
Was  Delacroix  tall  or  short? — His  loveof  fiowers — His  delicate  health — His 
personal  appearance — His  indifterence  to  the  love-passion — George  Sand 
and  Delacroix — A  miscarried  love-scene — Delacroix'  housekeeper,  Jenny 
Leguillou — Delacroix  does  not  want  to  pose  as  a  model  for  one  of  George 
Sand's  heroes — Delacroix  as  a  writer — His  approval  of  Carlyle's  dictum, 
"  Show  me  how  a  man  sings,"  etc. — His  humour  tempered  by  his  reverence 
— His  failure  as  a  caricaturist — His  practical  jokes  on  would-be  art-critics — 
Delacroix  at  home — His  dress  while  at  work — Horace  Vcmet's,  Paul  Dela- 
roche's,  Ingres' — Early  at  work — He  does  not  waste  time  over  lunch — How 
he  spent  his  evenings — His  dislike  of  being  reproduced  in  marble  or  on 
canvas  after  his  death — Horace  Vemet — The  contrast  between  the  two  men 
and  the  two  artists — Vernet's  appearance — His  own  account  of  how  he  be- 
came a  painter — Moral  and  mental  resemblance  to  Alexandre  Diuiias  pere 
— His  political  opinions — Vemet  and  Nicholas  I. — A  bold  answer — His 
opinion  on  the  mental  state  of  the  Komanoifs — The  comic  side  of  Vernet's 
character — He  thinks  himself  a  Vauban — His  interviews  with  M.  Thiers — 
His  admiration  for  everything  military — His  worship  of  Alfred  de  Vigny — 
His  ineffectual  attempts  to  pamt  a  scene  in  connection  with  the  storming  of 
Constantine — Laurent-Jan  proposes  to  write  an  epic  on  it — Pie  gives  a  sy- 
nopsis of  the  cantos — Laurent-Jan  lives  "on  the  fat  of  the  land"  for  six 
months — A  son  of  Napoleon's  companion  in  exile.  General  Bertrand — The 
chaplain  of  "  la  Belle-Poule  " — The  first  French  priest  who  wore  the  English 
dress — Horace  Vernet  and  the  veterans  of  "  la  grande  arm6e  " — His  studio 
during  their  occupancy  of  it  as  models — His  budget — His  hatred  of  pitferari 
—A  professor — The  Quartier-Latin  revisited. 

A  FEW  weeks  ago,*  when  rummaging  among  old  papers, 
documents,  memoranda,  etc.,  I  came  upon  some  stray  leaves 
of  a  catalogue  of  a  picture  sale  at  the  Hotel  Bullion  f  in  1845. 
I  had  marked  the  prices  realized  by  a  score  or  so  of  paintings 
signed  by  men  who,  though  living  at  that  time,  were  already 
more  or  less  famous,  and  many  of  whom  have  since  then  ac- 
quired a  world-wide  reputation.     There  was  only  one  excep- 

*  Written  in  1882. 

+  The  Hotel  Bullion  was  formerly  the  town  mansion  of  the  financier  of  that 
name,  and  situated  in  the  Kue  Coquilli^re. — Editok. 


THE  PRICE  OP  PICTURES  IN  THE  FORTIES.       165 

tion  to  this — that  of  Herrera  the  Elder,  who  had  been  dead 
nearly  two  centuries,  and  whose  name  was,  and  is  still,  a 
household  word  among  connoisseurs  by  reason  of  his  having 
been  the  master  of  Velasquez.  The  handiwork  of  the  irascible 
old  man  was  knocked  down  for  three  francs  seventy-five 
centimes,  though  no  question  was  raised  as  to  the  genuine- 
ness of  it  in  my  hearing.  It  was  a  saint — the  catalogue  said 
no  more, — and  I  have  been  in  vain  trying  to  recollect  why  I 
did  not  buy  it.  There  must  have  been  some  cogent  reason 
for  my  not  having  done  so,  for  "  the  frame  was  no  doubt 
worth  double  the  money,"  to  use  an  auctioneer's  phrase. 
Was  it  suspicion,  or  what  ?  At  any  rate,  two  years  later,  I 
heard  that  it  had  been  sold  to  an  American  for  fourteen 
thousand  francs,  though,  after  all,  that  was  no  guarantee  of 
its  value. 

In  those  days  it  was  certainly  better  to  be  a  live  artist 
than  a  dead  one,  for,  a  little  further  on  among  these  pages,  I 
came  upon  a  marginal  note  of  the  prices  fetched  by  three 
works  of  Meissonier,  "  Le  Corps  de  Garde,"  "  line  partie  de 
piquet,"  and  "  Un  jeune  homme  regardant  des  dessins,"  all 
of  which  had  been  in  the  salon  of  that  year,*  and  each  of 
which  fetched  3000  francs.  I  should  not  like  to  say  what 
their  purchasing  price  would  be  to-day,  allowing  for  the 
difference  in  the  value  of  money.  Further  on  still,  there  is  a 
note  of  a  picture  by  Alfred  de  Dreux,  which  realized  a  similar 
amount.  Allowing  for  that  same  difference  in  the  value  of 
money,  that  work  would  probably  not  find  a  buyer  now  among 
real  connoisseurs  at  200  francs. f  At  the  same  time,  the 
original  sketch  of  David's  "  Serment  du  Jeu  de  Paume  "  did 
not  find  a  purchaser  at  2500  francs,  the  reserve  price.  A 
landscape  by  Jules  Andre,  a  far  greater  artist  than  Alfred  de 
Dreux,  went  for  300  francs,  and  Baron's  "  Oies  du  Frere 
Philippe  "  only  realized  200  francs  more.     There  was  not  a 

*  The  annual  salon  was  held  in  the  Louvre  then ;  in  1849  it  was  transferred 
to  the  Tuileries.  In  1850,  '51,  and  '52  it  was  removed  to  the  galleries  of  the 
Palais- Eoyal ;  in  1853  and  '54  the  salon  was  held  in  the  Hotel  des  Menus- 
Plaisirs,  in  the  Faubourg  Poissonniere,  which  became  afterwards  the  storehouse 
for  the  scenery  of  the  Grand  Opera.  In  1855  the  exhibition  took  place  in  a 
special  annex  of  the  Palais  de  I'Industrie ;  after  that,  it  was  lodged  in  the  Palais 
iteelf. — Editor. 

t  Alfred  de  Dreux  was  not  an  unknown  figure  in  London  society.  He  came 
in  1848.  He  was  a  kind  of  Comte  d'Orsay,  and  painted  chiefly  equestrian  fig- 
ures. After  the  Coup  d'Etat  he  returned  to  Paris,  and  was  patronized  by  society, 
and  subsequently  by  Napoleon  III.  himself,  whose  portrait  he  painted.  He  was 
killed  in  a  duel,  the'  cause  of  which  has  never  been  revealed.^EDixoE. 


166  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

single  "  bid "  for  Eugfine  Delacroix'  "  Marc-Aur^le,"  and 
when  he  did  sell  a  picture  it  was  for  500  or  600  francs ;  now- 
adays it  would  fetch  100,000  francs.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
drawings  of  Decamps'  admirable  "  Histoire  de  Samson " 
realized  1000  francs  each. 

Yet  Gabriel  Decamps  was  a  far  unhappier  man  than 
Eugene  Delacroix.  The  pictures  rejected  by  the  public  be- 
came the  "  apples  "  of  Delacroix'  eyes,  with  which  he  would 
not  part,  subsequently,  at  any  price,  as  in  the  case  of  his 
"  Marino  Faliero."  Decamps,  one  day,  while  he  lived  in  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Denis,  deliberately  destroyed  one  hundred 
and  forty  drawings,  the  like  of  which  were  eagerly  bought 
up  for  a  thousand  francs  apiece,  though  at  present  they 
would  be  worth  four  times  that  amount.  Delacroix  was  con- 
tent with  his  God-given  genius ;  "  he  saw  everything  he  had 
made,  and  behold  it  was  very  good."  Decamps  fumed  and 
fretted  at  the  supposed  systematic  neglect  of  the  Govern- 
ment, which  did  not  give  him  a  commission.  "  You  paint 
with  a  big  brush,  but  you  are  not  a  great  painter,"  said  Sir 
Joshua  to  a  would-be  Michael- Angelo.  To  Gabriel  Decamps 
the  idea  of  being  allowed  or  invited  by  the  State  to  cover  a 
number  of  yards  of  canvas  or  wall  or  ceiling  was  so  attractive 
that  he  positively  lost  his  sleep  and  his  appetite  over  it.  It 
was,  perhaps,  the  only  bitter  drop  in  his  otherwise  tolerably 
full  cup  of  happiness,  but  that  one  drop  very  frequently  em- 
bittered the  whole.  He  had  many  good  traits  in  his  charac- 
ter, though  he  was  not  uniformly  good-tempered.  There 
was  an  absolute  indifference  as  to  the  monetary  results  of  his 
calling,  and  an  inherent  generosity  to  those  who  "  had  fallen 
by  the  way."  But  he  was  something  of  a  bear  and  a  recluse, 
not  because  he  disliked  society,  but  because  he  deliberately 
suppressed  his  sociable  qualities,  lest  he  should  arouse  the 
suspicion  of  making  them  the  stepping-stone  to  his  ambition. 
No  man  ever  misread  the  lesson,  "  Do  well  and  fear  not,"  so 
utterly  as  did  Decamps.  He  was  never  tired  of  well-doing ; 
and  he  was  never  tired  of  speculating  what  the  world  would 
think  of  it.  There  is  not  a  single  picture  from  his  brush 
that  does  not  contain  an  original  thought;  he  founded  an 
absolutely  new  school — no  small  thing  to  do.  The  world  at 
large  acknowledged  as  much,  and  yet  he  would  not  enjoy  the 
fruits  of  that  recognition,  because  it  lacked  the  "  official 
stamp."  When  Decamps  consented  to  forget  his  real  or 
fancied  grievances  he  became  a  capital  companion,  provided 


EUGilNE  DELACROIX.  16Y 

one  had  a  taste  for  bitter  and  scathing  satire.  I  fancy  Jona- 
than Swift  must  have  been  something  like  Gabriel  Decamps 
in  his  daily  intercourse  with  his  familiars.  But  he  rarely 
said  an  ill-natured  thing  of  his  fellow-artists.  His  strictures 
were  reserved  for  the  political  men  of  his  time,  and  of  the 
preceding  reign.  The  Bourbons  he  despised  from  the  bottom 
of  his  heart,  and  during  the  Eestauration  his  contempt  found 
vent  in  caricatures  which,  at  the  moment,  must  have  seared 
like  a  red-hot  iron.  He  had  kept  a  good  many  of  these 
ephemeral  productions,  and,  I  am  bound  to  say,  they  struck 
one  afterwards  as  unnecessarily  severe.  "  If  they  "  (meaning 
the  Bourbons)  "  had  continued  to  reign  in  France,"  he  said 
one  day,  "  I  would  have  applied  for  letters  of  naturalization 
to  the  Sultan." 

Decamps  was  killed,  like  Gericault,  by  a  fall  off  his 
horse,  but  long  before  that  he  had  ceased  to  work.  "  I 
cannot  add  much  to  my  reputation,  and  do  not  care  to  add 
to  my  store,"  he  said.  In  1855,  the  world  positively  rang 
with  his  name,  but  I  doubt  whether  this  universal  admi- 
ration gave  him  much  satisfaction.  He  exhibited  more 
than  fifty  works  at  the  Exposition  Universelle  of  that  year, 
a  good  many  of  which  had  been  rejected  by  the  "  hanging 
committees  "  of  previous  salons.  True  to  his  system,  he 
rarely,  perhaps  never  directly,  called  the  past  judgment  in 
question,  but  he  lived  and  died  a  dissatisfied  man.  Unlike 
Mirabeau,  who  had  not  the  courage  to  be  unpopular,  De- 
camps derived  no  gratification  from  popularity. 

I  knew  Eugene  Delacroix  better  than  any  of  the  others 
in  the  marvellous  constellation  of  painters  of  that  period, 
and  our  friendship  lasted  till  the  day  of  his  death,  in  De- 
cember, 1863.  I  was  also  on  very  good  terms  with  Horace 
Vernet;  but  though  the  latter  was  perhaps  a  more  lively 
companion,  the  stronger  attraction  was  towards  the  former. 
I  was  one  of  the  few  friends  whom  he  tolerated  whilst  at 
work.  Our  friendship  lasted  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  cent- 
ury, and  during  that  time  there  was  never  a  single  unpleas- 
antness between  us,  though  I  am  bound  to  admit  that  Dela- 
croix' temper  was  very  uncertain.  Among  all  those  men 
who  had  a  profound,  ineradicable  contempt  for  the  bour- 
geois, I  have  only  known  one  who  despised  him  even  to  a 
greater  extent  than  he ;  it  was  Gustavo  Flaubert.  Though 
Delacroix'  manners  were  perfect,  he  could  scarcely  be  polite 
to  the  middle  classes.     With  the  exception  of  Dante  and 


168  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Shakespeare,  Delacroix  was  probably  the  greatest  poet  that 
ever  lived  ;  a  greater  poet  undoubtedly  than  Victor  Hugo,  in 
that  he  was  absolutely  indifferent  to  the  material  results  of 
his  genius.  If  Shakespeare  and  the  author  of  the  "  Infer- 
no "  had  painted,  they  would  have  painted  like  Delacroix ; 
his  "  Sardanapale  "  is  the  Byronic  poem,  condensed  and 
transferred  to  canvas. 

Long  as  I  knew  Delacroix,  I  had  never  been  able  to  make 
out  whether  he  was  tall  or  short,  and  most  of  his  friends  and 
acquaintances  were  equally  puzzled.  As  we  stood  around  his 
coffin  many  were  surprised  at  its  length.  His  was  decidedly 
a  curious  face,  at  times  stony  in  its  immobility,  at  others 
quivering  from  the  tip  of  chin  to  the  juncture  of  the  eye- 
brows, and  with  a  peculiar  movement  of  the  nostrils  that 
was  almost  pendulum-like  in  its  regularity.  It  gave  one  the 
impression  of  their  being  assailed  by  some  unpleasant  smell, 
and,  one  day,  when  Delacroix  was  in  a  light  mood,  I  re- 
marked upon  it.  "  You  are  perfectly  right,"  he  replied ;  "  I 
always  fancy  there  is  corruption  in  the  air,  but  it  is  not 
necessarily  of  a  material  kind." 

Be  this  as  it  may,  he  liked  to  surround  himself  with 
flowers,  and  his  studio  was  often  like  a  hothouse,  apart  from 
the  floral  decorations.  The  temperature  was  invariably  very 
high,  and  even  then  he  would  shiver  now  and  again.  I  have 
always  had  an  idea  that  Delacroix  had  Indian  blood  in  his 
veins,  which  idea  was  justified  to  a  certain  extent  by  his  ap- 
pearance, albeit  that  there  was  no  tradition  to  that  effect  in 
his  family.  But  it  was  neither  the  black  hair,  the  olive  skin, 
nor  the  peculiar  formation  of  the  features  which  forced  that 
conclusion  upon  me ;  it  was  the  character  of  Delacroix,  which 
for  years  and  years  I  endeavoured  to  read  thoroughly,  with- 
out succeeding  to  any  appreciable  degree.  There  was  one 
trait  that  stood  out  so  distinctly  that  the  merest  child  might 
have  perceived  it — his  honesty ;  but  the  rest  was  apparently 
a  mass  of  contradiction.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  a  poet, 
and  especially  a  painter-poet,  without  an  absorbing  passion 
for  some  woman — not  necessarily  for  the  same  woman ;  to 
my  knowledge  Delacroix  had  no  such  passion,  for  one  can 
scarcely  admit  that  Jenny  Leguillou,  his  liousekeeper,  could 
have  inspired  such  a  feeling.  True,  when  I  first  knew  Dela- 
croix he  was  over  forty,  but  those  who  had  known  him  at 
twenty  and  twenty-five  never  hinted  at  any  romantic  attach- 
ment or  even  at  a  sober,  homely  affection.     And  assuredly  a 


EUGfiNE  DELACROIX  AND  GEORGE  SAND.        169 

man  of  forty  is  not  invulnerable  in  that  respect.  And  yet, 
the  woman  who  positively  bewitched,  one  after  another,  so 
many  of  Delacroix'  eminent  contemporaries,  Jules  Sandeau, 
Alfred  de  Musset,  Michel  de  Bourges,  Chopin,  Pierre  Leroux, 
Cabet,  Lammenais,  etc.,  had  no  power  over  him, 

Paul  de  Musset,  perhaps  as  a  kind  of  revenge  for  the 
wrongs  suffered  by  his  brother,  once  gave  an  amusing  de- 
scription of  the  miscarried  attempt  of  George  Sand  "  to  net " 
Eugene  Delacroix. 

It  would  appear  that  the  painter  had  shown  signs  of  yield- 
ing to  the  charms  which  fev/  men  were  able  to  withstand,  or, 
at  any  rate,  that  George  Sand  fancied  she  could  detect  such 
signs.  Whether  it  was  from  a  wish  on  George  Sand's  part 
to  precipitate  matters  or  to  nip  the  thing  in  the  bud,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  determine,  but  it  is  certain  that  she  pursued 
her  usual  tactics — that  is,  she  endeavoured  to  provoke  an  ad- 
mission of  her  admirer's  feeling.  Though  I  subsequently 
ascertained  that  Paul  de  Musset's  story  was  substantially 
true,  I  am  not  altogether  prepared,  knowing  his  animosity 
against  her,  to  accept  his  hinted  theory  of  the  lady's  desire 
"  de  brusquer  les  fian9ailles." 

One  morning,  then,  while  Delacroix  was  at  work,  George 
Sand  entered  his  studio.  She  looked  out  of  spirits,  and  al- 
most immediately  stated  the  purpose  of  her  visit. 

"  My  poor  Eugene  ! "  she  began ;  "  I  am  afraid  I  have 
got  sad  news  for  you." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  said  Delacroix,  without  interrupting  his 
work,  and  just  giving  her  one  of  his  cordial  smiles  in  guise 
of  welcome. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  carefully  consulted  my  own 
heart,  and  the  upshot  is,  I  am  grieved  to  tell  you,  that  I  feel 
I  cannot  and  could  never  love  you." 

Delacroix  kept  on  painting.     "  Is  that  a  fact  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  and  I  ask  you  once  more  to  pardon  me,  and  to  give 
me  credit  for  my  candour — my  poor  Delacroix." 

Delacroix  did  not  budge  from  his  easel. 

"_  You  are  angry  with  me,  are  you  not  ?  You  will  never 
forgive  me?" 

"  Certainly  I  will.  Only  I  want  you  to  keep  quiet  for  ten 
minutes  ;  I  have  got  a  bit  of  sky  there  which  has  caused  me 
a  good  deal  of  trouble,  it  is  just  coming  right.  Go  and  sit 
down  or  else  take  a  little  walk,  and  come  back  in  ten  min- 
utes." 


170  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Of  course,  George  Sand  did  not  return ;  and  equally,  of 
course,  did  not  tell  the  story  to  any  one,  but  somehow  it 
leaked  out.  Perhaps  Jenny  Leguillou  had  overheard  the 
scene — she  was  quite  capable  of  listening  behind  a  screen  or 
door — and  reporting  it.  Delacroix  himself,  when  "  chaffed  " 
about  it,  never  denied  it.  There  was  no  need  for  him  to  do 
so,  because  theoretically  it  redounded  to  the  lady's  honour ; 
had  she  not  rejected  his  advances  ? 

I  have  noted  it  here  to  prove  that  the  poetry  of  Delacroix 
n'allait  pas  se  faufiler  dans  les  jupons,  because,  though  we 
would  not  take  it  for  granted  that  where  George  Sand  failed 
others  would  have  succeeded,  it  is  nevertheless  an  authenti- 
cated fact  that  only  one  other  man  among  the  many  on  whom 
she  tried  her  wiles  remained  proof  against  them.  That  man 
was  Prosper  Mei'imee,  the  author  of  "  Colomba  "  and  "  Car- 
men," the  friend  of  Panizzi.  "  Quand  je  fais  un  roman,  je 
choisis  mon  sujet ;  je  ne  veux  pas  que  Ton  me  decoupe  pour 
en  faire  un.  Madame  Sand  ne  met  pas  ses  amants  dans  son 
cceur,  elle  les  mets  dans  ses  livres ;  et  elle  le  fait  si  diable- 
ment  vite  qu'on  n'a  pas  le  temps  de  la  devancer."  Merimee 
was  right,  each  of  George  Sand's  earlier  books  had  been 
written  with  the  heart's  blood  of  one  of  the  victims  of  her 
insatiable  passions — ^for  I  should  not  like  to  prostitute  the 
word  "  love  "  to  her  liaisons ;  and  I  am  glad  to  think  that 
Eugene  Delacroix  was  spared  that  ordeal.  It  would  have 
killed  him ;  and  the  painter  of  "  Sardanapale "  was  more 
precious  to  his  own  art  than  to  hers,  which,  with  all  due 
deference  to  eminent  critics,  left  an  unpleasant  sensation  to 
those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  free  from  incipient 
hysteria. 

A  liaison  with  George  Sand  would  have  killed  Eugene 
Delacroix,  I  am  perfectly  certain  ;  for  he  would  have  staked 
gold,  she  would  have  only  played  with  counters.  It  would 
have  been  the  vitiated  atmosphere  in  which  the  cradle  of  his 
life  and  of  his  genius — which  were  one,  in  this  instance — 
would  have  been  extinguished. 

As  it  was,  that  candle  burned  very  low  at  times,  because, 
during  the  years  I  knew  Delacroix,  he  had  nearly  always  one 
foot  in  the  grave  ;  the  healthy  breezes  of  art's  unpolluted  air 
made  that  candle  burn  brightly  now  and  again ;  hence  the 
difference  in  quality,  as  striking,  of  some  of  his  pictures. 

Perhaps  on  account  of  his  delicate  health,  Delacroix  was 
not  very  fond  of  society,  in  which,  however,  he  was  ever 


DELACROIX  AS  A  WRITER.  171 

welcome,  and  particularly  fitted  to  shine,  though  he  rarely 
attempted  to  do  so.  I  have  said  that  Dante  and  Shakespeare, 
if  they  had  painted,  would  have  painted  as  Delacroix  did ;  I 
am  almost  tempted  to  add  that  if  Delacroix'  vocation  had 
impelled  him  that  way,  he  would  have  sung  as  they  sang — of 
course,  I  do  not  mean  that  he  would  have  soared  as  high,  hut 
his  name  would  have  lived  in  literature  as  it  does  in  painting, 
though  perhaps  not  with  so  brilliant  a  halo  around  it.  For, 
unlike  many  great  painters  of  his  time,  Delacroix  was  essen- 
tially lettre.  One  has  but  to  read  some  of  his  critical  essays 
in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  of  that  period,  to  be  con- 
vinced of  that  at  once.  Theophile  Gautier  said,  one  even- 
ing, that  it  was  "  the  style  of  a  poet  in  a  hurry."  The  sen- 
tences give  one  the  impression  of  newly-minted  golden  coins. 
Nearly  every  one  contains  a  thought,  which,  if  reduced  to 
small  change,  would  still  make  an  admirable  paragraph.  He 
gives  to  his  readers  what  he  expects  from  his  authors — a  sen- 
sation, a  shock  in  two  or  three  lines.  The  sentences  are 
modelled  upon  his  favourite  prose  author,  who,  curious  to  re- 
late, was  none  other  than  Isapoleon  I.  I  often  tried  to  in- 
terest him  in  English  literature.  Unfortunately,  he  knew  no 
English  to  speak  of,  and  was  obliged  to  have  recourse  to 
translations.  Walter  Scott  he  thought  long-winded,  and, 
after  a  few  attempts  at  Shakespeare  in  French,  he  gave  it  up. 
"  ^a  ne  pent  pas  etre  cela,"  he  said.  But  he  had  several 
French  versions  of  "  Gulliver's  Travels,"  all  of  which  he  read 
in  turn.  One  day,  I  quoted  to  him  a  sentence  from  Carlyle's 
"  Lectures  on  Heroes :  "  "  Show  me  how  a  man  sings,  and  I 
will  tell  you  hoAv  he  will  fight."  "  C'est  cela,"  he  said  ;  "  if 
Shakespeare  had  been  a  general,  he  would  have  won  his  bat- 
tles like  Napoleon,  by  thunderclaps"  (par  des  coups  de 
foudre). 

Delacroix  had  what  a  great  many  Frenchmen  lack — a 
keen  sense  of  humour,  but  it  was  considerably  tempered  by 
what,  for  the  want  of  a  better  term,  I  may  call  the  bump  of 
reverence.  He  could  not  be  humorous  at  the  expense  of 
those  he  admired  or  respected,  consequently  his  attempts  at 
caricature  at  the  early  period  of  his  career  in  Le  JVaiti  Jaune 
were  a  failure;  because  Delacroix'  admiration  and  respect 
were  not  necessarily  reserved  for  those  with  whom  he  agreed 
in  art  or  politics,  but  for  everyone  who  attempted  something 
great  or  useful,  though  he  failed.  The  man  who,  at  the  age 
of  sixty,  would  enthusiastically  dilate  upon  his  meeting  forty 


172  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

years  before  with  Gros,  whose  hat  he  had  knocked  off  by 
accident,  was  not  the  likely  one  to  hold  up  to  ridicule  the 
celebrity  of  the  hour  or  day  without  malice  prepense.  And 
this  malice  prepense  never  uprose  within  him,  except  in  the 
presence  of  some  bumptious,  ignorant  nobody.  Then  it  posi- 
tively boiled  over,  and  he  did  not  mind  what  trick  he  played 
his  interlocutor.  The  latter  might  be  a  wealthy  would-be 
patron,  an  influential  Government  official,  or  a  well-known 
picture-dealer ;  it  was  all  the  same  to  Delacroix,  who  had  an 
utter  contempt  for  patronage,  nepotism,  and  money.  It  was 
as  good  as  a  clever  scene  in  a  comedy  to  see  him  rise  and 
draw  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  in  order  to  impress  his 
victim  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  what  he  was  going 
to  say.  To  get  an  idea  of  him  under  such  circumstances,  one 
must  go  and  see  his  portrait  in  the  Louvre,  painted  by  him- 
self, with  the  semi-supercilious,  semi-benevolent  smile  play- 
ing upon  the  parted  lips,  and  showing  the  magnificent  regu- 
lar set  of  teeth,  of  which  he  was  very  proud,  beneath  the 
black  bushy  moustache,  which  reminds  one  curiously  of  that 
of  Kembrandt,  Of  course,  the  victim  was  mesmerized,  and 
stood  listening  with  all  attention,  promising  himself  to 
remember  every  word  of  the  spoken  essay  on  art,  with  the 
view  of  producing  it  as  his  own  at  the  first  favourable  oppor- 
tunity. And  he  generally  did,  to  his  own  discomfiture  and 
the  amusement  of  his  hearers,  who,  if  they  happened  to  know 
Delacroix,  which  was  the  case  frequently,  invariably  detected 
the  source  of  the  speaker's  information.  I  once  heard  a 
spoken  essay  on  Holbein  reproduced  in  that  way,  which 
would  have  simply  made  the  fortune  of  any  comic  writer. 
The  human  parrot  had  not  even  been  parrot-like,  for  he  had 
muddled  the  whole  in  transmission.  I  took  some  pains  to 
reproduce  his  exact  words,  and  I  never  saw  Delacroix  laugh  as 
when  I  repeated  it  to  him.  For,  as  a  rule,  and  even  when  he 
was  mystifying  that  kind  of  numskull  in  the  presence  of  half 
a  dozen  well-informed  friends,  Delacroix  remained  perfectly 
serious,  though  the  others  had  to  bite  their  lips  lest  they 
should  explode.  In  fact,  it  would  have  been  difficult  at  any 
time  to  guess  or  discover,  beneath  the  well-bred  man  of  the 
world,  with  his  charming,  courtly,  though  somewhat  distant 
manner,  the  painter  who  gave  us  "  La  Barque  de  Dante," 
and  "  Les  Massacres  de  Scio  ;"  still,  Delacroix  was  that  man 
of  the  world,  exceedingly  careful  of  his  appearance,  particu- 
lar to  a  degree  about  his  nails,  which  he  wore  very  long, 


DELACROIX  AT  HOME.  173 

dressed  to  perfection,  and,  in  spite  of  the  episode  with  George 
Sand,  recorded  above,  most  ingratiating  with  women. 

Different  altogether  was  he  in  his  studio.  Though  he 
was  "  at  home  "  from  three  till  five,  to  visitors  of  both  sexes, 
it  was  distinctly  understood  that  he  would  not  interrupt  his 
work  for  them,  or  play  the  host  as  the  popular  painter  of 
to-day  is  supposed  to  do.  The  atelier,  encumbered  with 
bric-a-brac  and  sumptuous  hangings  and  afternoon  tea,  had 
not  been  invented :  if  the  host  wore  a  velvet  coat,  a  Byronic 
collar,  and  gorgeous  papooshes,  it  was  because  he  liked  these 
things  himself,  not  because  he  intended  to  impress  his  visit- 
ors. As  a  rule,  the  host,  though  in  his  youth  perhaps  he  had 
been  fond  of  extravagant  costumes,  did  not  like  them  :  Hor- 
ace Vernet  often  worked  in  his  shirt- sleeves,  Paul  Delaroche 
nearly  always  wore  a  blouse,  and  Ingres,  until  he  became  "  a 
society  man,"  which  was  very  late  in  life,  donned  a  dressing- 
gown.  Delacroix  was,  if  anything,  more  slovenly  than  the 
rest  when  at  work.  An  old  jacket  buttoned  up  to  the  chin, 
a  large  muffler  round  his  neck,  a  cloth  cap  pulled  over  his 
ears,  and  a  pair  of  thick  felt  slippers  made  up  his  usual 
garb.  For  he  was  nearly  always  shivering  with  cold,  and 
had  an  affection  of  the  throat,  besides,  which  compelled  him 
to  be  careful.  "  But  for  my  wrapping  up,  I  should  have 
been  dead  at  thirty,"  he  said. 

Nevertheless,  at  the  stroke  of  eight,  winter  and  summer, 
he  was  in  his  studio,  which  he  did  not  leave  until  dark,  dur- 
ing six  months  of  the  year,  and  a  little  before,  during  the 
other  six.  Contrary  to  the  French  habit,  he  never  took 
luncheon,  and  generally  dined  at  home  a  little  after  six — the 
fatigue  of  dining  out  being  too  much  for  him. 

I  may  safely  say  that  I  was  one  of  Delacroix'  friends, 
with  whom  he  talked  without  restraint.  I  often  went  to 
him  of  an  evening  when  the  weather  prevented  his  going 
abroad,  which,  in  his  state  of  health,  was  very  often.  He 
always  chafed  at  such  confinement ;  for  though  not  fond  of 
society  in  a  general  way,  he  liked  coming  to  the  Boulevards, 
after  his  work  was  over,  and  mixing  with  his  familiars.  De- 
lacroix smoked,  but,  unlike  many  addicted  to  tobacco,  could 
not  sit  idle.  His  hands,  as  well  as  his  brain,  wanted  to  be 
busy ;  consequently,  when  imprisoned  by  rain  or  snow,  he 
sat  sketching  figures  or  groups,  talking  all  the  while.  By 
then  his  name  had  become  familiar  to  every  art  student 
throughout  the  world,  and  he  often  received  flattering  letters 


174  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

from  distant  parts.  One  evening,  shortly  after  the  death  of 
David  d' Angers,  to  an  episode  in  whose  life  I  have  devoted 
a  considerable  space  in  these  notes,  Delacroix  received  an 
American  newspaper,  the  title  of  which  I  have  forgotten, 
but  which  contained  an  exceedingly  able  article  on  the  great 
sculptor,  as  an  artist,  and  as  a  man.  It  wound  up  with  the 
question,  "And  what  kind  of  monument  will  be  raised  to 
him  by  the  man  who  virtually  shortened  his  life  by  sending 
him  into  exile,  because  David  remained  true  to  the  repub- 
lican principles  which  Napoleon  only  shammed — or,  if  not 
shammed,  deliberately  trod  underfoot  to  ascend  a  tyrant's 
throne?" 

I  translated  the  whole  of  the  article,  and,  when  I  came  to 
the  last  lines,  Delacroix  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  You  re- 
member," he  said,  "  the  answer  of  our  friend  Dumas,  when 
they  asked  him  for  a  subscription  towards  a  monument  to  a 
man  whom  every  one  had  reviled  in  the  beginning  of  his 
career.  '  They  had  better  be  content  with  the  stones  they 
threw  at  him  during  his  existence.  No  monument  they  can 
raise  will  be  so  eloquent  of  their  imbecility  and  his  genius.' 
I  may  take  it,"  he  went  on,  "  that  such  a  question  will  be 
raised  one  day  after  my  death,  perhaps  many  years  after  I 
am  gone.  If  you  are  alive  you  will,  by  my  will,  raise  your 
voice  against  the  project.  I  have  painted  my  own  portrait ; 
while  I  am  here,  I  will  take  care  that  it  be  not  reproduced ; 
I  will  forbid  them  to  do  so  after  I  am  at  rest.  There  shall 
not  be  a  bust  on  my  tomb." 

About  a  fortnight  before  his  death  he  made  a  will  to  that 
effect,  and  up  to  the  present  hour  (1883)  its  injunctions  have 
been  respected.  Delacroix  lies  in  a  somewhat  solitary  spot 
in  Pere-Lachaise.  Neither  emblem,  bust,  nor  statue  adorns  his 
tomb,  which  was  executed  according  to  his  own  instructions. 
"  They  libelled  me  so  much  during  my  life,"  he  said  one  day, 
"  that  I  do  not  want  them  to  libel  me  after  my  death,  on 
canvas  or  in  marble.  They  flattered  me  so  much  afterwards, 
that  I  knew  their  flattery  to  be  fulsome,  and,  if  anything,  I 
am  more  afraid  of  it  than  of  their  libels." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  greater  contrast  than  there 
existed  between  Eugene  Delacroix,  both  as  a  man  and  an 
artist,  and  Horace  Vernet.  The  one  loved  his  art  with  the 
passionate  devotion  of  an  intensely  poetical  lover  for  his  way- 
ward mistress,  whom  to  cease  wooing  for  a  moment  might 
mean  an  irreparable  breach  or,  at  least,  a  long  estrangement ; 


HORACE  VERNET.  175 

the  other  loved  his  with  the  calm  affection  of  the  cherished 
husband  for  the  faithful  wife  who  had  blessed  him  with  a 
numerous  offspring,  whom  he  had  known  from  his  very  in- 
fancy, a  marriage  with  whom  had  been  decided  upon  when  he 
was  a  mere  lad,  whom  he  might  even  neglect  for  a  little  while 
without  the  bond  being  in  any  way  relaxed.  According  to 
their  respective  certificates  of  birth,  Vernet  was  the  senior  by 
ten  years  of  Delacroix.  When  I  first  knew  them,  about  1840, 
Vernet  looked  ten  years  younger  than  Delacroix.  If  they 
had  chosen  to  disguise  themselves  as  musketeers  of  the  Louis 
XIII.  period,  Vernet  would  have  reminded  one  of  both  Aramis 
and  d'Artagnan ;  Delacroix,  of  Athos. 

Montaigne  spoke  Latin  before  he  could  speak  French; 
Vernet  drew  men  and  horses  before  he  had  mastered  either 
French  or  Latin.  His  playthings  were  stumpy,  worn-out 
brashes,  discarded  palettes,  and  sticks  of  charcoal ;  his  alpha- 
bet, the  pictures  of  the  Louvre,  where  his  father  occupied  a 
set  of  apartments,  and  where  he  was  born,  a  month  before 
the  outbreak  of  the  first  Revolution.  He  once  said  to  me, 
"Je  suis  peintre  comme  il  y  des  hommes  qui  sont  rois — 
parceque  ils  ne  peuvent  pas  etre  autre  chose.  II  fallait  un 
homme  de  genie  pour  sortir  d'un  pareil  bourbier  et  malheu- 
reusement  je  n'ai  que  du  talent."  By  the  "  bourbier "  he 
meant  his  great-grandfather,  his  two  grandfathers,  and  his 
father,  all  of  whom  were  painters  and  draughtsmen. 

Posterity  will  probably  decide  whether  Horace  Vernet 
was  a  genius  or  merely  a  painter  of  great  talent,  but  it  will 
scarcely  convey  an  approximate  idea  of  the  charm  of  the  man 
himself.  There  was  only  one  other  of  his  contemporaries 
who  exercised  the  same  spell  on  his  companions — Alexandre 
Dumas  pere.  Though  Vernet  was  a  comparative  dwarf  by 
the  side  of  Dumas,  the  men  had  the  same  qualities,  physical, 
moral,  and  mental.  Neither  of  them  knew  what  bodily 
fatigue  meant ;  both  could  work  for  fourteen  or  fifteen  hours 
a  day  to:  a  fortnight  or  a  month ;  both  would  often  have  "  a 
long  bout  of  idleness,"  as  they  called  it,  which,  to  others  not 
endowed  with  their  strength  and  mental  activity,  would  have 
meant  hard  labour.  Both  were  fond  of  earning  money, 
fonder  still  of  spending  it ;  both  created  almost  witliout  an 
effort.  Dumas  roared  with  laughter  while  writing ;  Vernet 
sang  at  the  top  of  his  voice  while  painting,  or  bandied  jokes 
with  his  visitors,  who  might  come  and  go  as  they  liked  at  all 
hours.     Dumas,  especially  in  the  earlier  days  of  his  career, 


176  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

had  to  read  a  great  deal  before  he  could  catch  the  local 
colour  of  his  novels  and  plays — he  himself  has  told  us  that  he 
was  altogether  ignorant  of  the  history  of  France.  But  when 
he  had  finished  reading  up  the  period  in  question,  he  wrote 
as  if  he  had  been  born  in  it.  Vernet  was  a  walking  cyclo- 
paedia on  military  costume ;  he  knew,  perhaps,  not  much 
more  than  that,  but  that  he  knew  thoroughly,  and  never  had 
to  think  twice  about  the  uniforms  of  his  models,  and,  as  he 
himself  said,  "  I  never  studied  the  thing,  nor  did  I  learn  to 
paint  or  to  draw.  According  to  many  people,  I  do  not  know 
how  to  paint  or  to  draw  now :  it  may  be  so ;  at  any  rate  I 
have  the  comfort  of  having  wasted  nobody's  time  in  trying 
to  learn." 

Like  Dumas,  he  was  very  proud  of  his  calling  and  of  the 
name  he  had  made  for  himself  in  it,  which  he  would  not 
have  changed  for  the  title  of  emperor — least  of  all  for  that  of 
king ;  for,  like  his  great  contemporary,  he  was  a  republican 
at  heart.  It  did  not  diminish  either  his  or  Dumas'  admira- 
tion for  Napoleon  I.  "  I  can  understand  an  absolute  mon- 
archy, nay,  a  downright  autocracy,  and  I  can  understand  a 
republic,"  said  Vernet,  "  but  I  fail  to  understand  the  use  of  a 
constitutional  king,  just  because  it  implies  and  entails  the 
princigle  of  succession  by  inheritance.  An  autocracy  means 
one  ruler  over  so  many  millions  of  subjects ;  a  constitutional 
monarchy  means  between  five  and  six  hundred  direct  rulers, 
so  many  millions  of  indirect  ones,  and  one  subject  who  is 
called  king.  Who  would  leave  his  child  the  inheritance  of 
such  slavery?  A  la  bonne  heure,  give  me  a  republic  such  as 
we  understand  it  in  France,  all  rulers,  all  natural-born  kings, 
gods  in  mortals'  disguise  who  dance  to  the  piping  of  the 
devil.  There  have  been  two  such  since  I  was  born ;  there 
may  be  another  half-dozen  like  these  within  the  next  two 
centuries,  because,  before  you  can  have  an  ideal  republic,  you 
must  have  ideal  republicans,  and  Nature  cannot  afford  to 
fritter  away  her  most  precious  gifts  on  a  lot  of  down-at-heels 
lawyers  and  hobnail-booted  scum.  She  condescends  now 
and  then  to  make  an  ideal  tyrant — she  will  never  make  a 
nation  of  ideal  republicans.  You  may  Just  as  well  ask  her  to 
make  a  nation  of  Raffaelles  or  Michael  Angelos,  or  Shake- 
speares  or  Molieres." 

Both  men,  in  spite  of  their  republican  opinions,  were 
personally  attached  to  some  members  of  the  Orleans  family ; 
both  had  an  almost  invincible  objection  to  the  Bourbons. 


VERNET  AND  NICHOLAS  I.  177 

Vernet  had  less  occasion  to  be  outspoken  in  his  dislike  than 
Dumas,  but  he  refused  to  receive  the  Due  de  Berri  when  the 
latter  offered  to  come  and  see  the  battle-pieces  Vernet  was 
painting  for  the  then  Duke  of  Orleans  (Louis-Philippe). 
Vernet  had  stipulated  that  his  paintings  should  illustrate 
exclusively  the  campaigns  of  the  first  Eepublic  and  the 
Empire,  though  subsequently  he  depicted  some  episodes  of 
the  Algerian  wars,  in  which  the  son  of  the  king  had  distin- 
guished himself.  "  Tricolour  cockades  or  no  pictures,"  he 
remarked,  and  Louis-Philippe  good-humouredly  acquiesced. 
Though  courteous  to  a  degree,  he  never  minced  matters  to 
either  king  or  beggar.  While  in  Russia  Nicholas  took  a 
great  fancy  to  him.  It  appears  that  the  painter,  who  must 
have  looked  even  smaller  by  the  side  of  the  Czar  than  he 
did  by  that  of  Dumas,  had  accompanied  the  former,  if  not 
on  a  perilous,  at  least  on  a  very  uncomfortable  journey  in 
the  middle  of  the  winter.  He  and  the  Emperor  were  the 
only  two  men  who  had  borne  the  hardships  and  privations 
without  grumbling,  nay,  with  Mark  Tapleyean  cheerfulness. 
That  kind  of  fortitude  Avas  at  all  times  a  passport  to  Nich- 
olas' heart,  doubly  so  in  this  instance,  by  reason  of  Vernet's 
by  no  means  robust  appearance.  From  that  moment  Nich- 
olas became  very  attached  to,  and  would  often  send  for,  him. 
They  would  often  converse  on  subjects  even  more  serious, 
and,  one  day,  after  the  partition  of  Poland,  Nicholas  pro- 
posed that  Vernet  should  paint  a  picture  on  the  subject. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  do  it,  sire,"  was  the  answer.  "  I 
have  never  painted  a  Christ  on  the  cross." 

"  The  moment  I  had  said  it,"  continued  Vernet,  when  he 
told  me  the  story,  which  is  scarcely  known,  "  I  thought  my 
last  hour  had  struck.  I  am  positively  certain  that  a  Russian 
would  have  paid  these  words  with  his  life,  or  at  least  with 
lifelong  exile  to  Siberia.  I  shall  never  forget  the  look  he 
gave  me ;  there  was  a  murderous  gleam  in  the  eyes ;  but  it 
was  over  in  an  instant.  Nevertheless,  I  feel  convinced  that 
Nicholas  was  mad,  and,  what  is  more,  I  feel  equally  convinced 
that  there  is  incipient  madness  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
Romanoff  family.  I  saw  a  good  many  of  its  members  during 
my  stay  in  Russia.  They  all  did  and  said  things  which  would 
have  landed  ordinary  men  and  women  in  a  lunatic  asylum. 
At  the  same  time  there  was  an  unmistakable  touch  of  genius 
about  some  of  them.  I  often  endeavoured  to  discuss  the 
matter  with  the  resident  foreign  physicians,  but,  as  you  may 


178  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

imagine,  they  were  very  reticent.  But  mark  my  words,  one 
day  there  will  be  a  terrible  flare-up.  Of  course,  the  foreigner, 
who  sees  the  superstitious  reverence,  the  slavisla  respect  with 
which  they  are  surrounded,  scarcely  wonders  that  these  men 
and  women  should,  in  the  end,  consider  themselves  above, 
and  irresponsible  to,  the  millions  of  grovelling  mortals  whom 
they  rule ;  in  spite  of  all  this,  the  question  can  only  be  one  of 
time,  and  when  the  Eussian  empire  falls,  the  cataclysm  will 
be  unlike  any  other  that  has  preceded  it." 

There  was  a  comic  side  to  Horace  Vernet's  character.  By 
dint  of  painting  battle-pieces  he  had  come  to  consider  him- 
self an  authority  on  strategy  and  tactics,  and  his  criticisms 
on  M.  Thiers'  system  of  fortifications  used  to  set  us  roaring. 
I  am  under  the  impression — though  I  will  not  strictly  vouch 
for  it — that  at  the  recommendation  of  one  or  two  of  the  in- 
veterate jokers  of  our  set,  Laurent- Jan  *  and  Mery,  he  had  a 
couple  of  interviews  with  M.  Theirs,  but  we  never  ascertained 
the  result  of  them.  It  was  almost  certain  that  the  minister  of 
Louis-Philippe,  who  at  one  period  of  his  life  considered  himself 
a  Napoleon  and  a  Vauban  rolled  into  one,  did  not  entertain 
Vernet's  suggestions  with  the  degree  of  enthusiasm  to  which 
he  thought  them  entitled ;  at  any  rate,  from  that  time,  the 
mention  of  M.  Thiers'  name  generally  provoked  a  contempt- 
uous shrug  of  the  shoulders  on  Vernet's  part.  "  C'est  tout  a  fait 
comme  Napoleon  et  Jomini,  mon  cher  Vernet,"  said  Laurent- 
Jan  ;  "  mais,  apres  tout,  qu'est  que  cela  vous  fait  ?  La  pos- 
terite  jugera  entre  vous  deux,  elle  saura  bien  debrouiller  la 
part  que  vous  avez  contribuee  A  ces  travaux  immortels." 

Much  as  Horace  Vernet  admired  his  great  contemporaries 
in  art  and  literature,  his  greatest  worship  was  reserved  for 
Alfred  de  Vigny,  the  soldier-poet,  though  the  latter  was  by 
no  means  a  sympathetic  companion.  Next  to  his  society, 
which  was  rarely  to  be  had,  he  preferred  that  of  Arthur 
Bertrand,  the  son  of  Napoleon's  companion  in  exile.  Arthur 
Bertrand  had  an  elder  brother.  Napoleon  Bertrand,  who,  at 
the  storming  of  Constantine,  put  on  a  new  pair  of  white  kid 
gloves,  brought  from  Paris  for  the  purpose.  Horace  Vernet 
made  at  least  fifty  sketches  of  that  particular  incident,  but  he 

*  Laurent-Jan  was  a  witty,  though  incorrigibly  idle  journalist.  He  is  en- 
tirely forgotten  now  save  by  sucli  men  as  MM.  Areene  Houssaye  and  Roger  de 
Beauvoir,  who  were  his  contemporaries.  He  was  the  author  of  a  clever  parody 
on  Kotzebue's  "  Menschenhasz  und  Keue,"  known  on  the  English  stage  as  "  The 
Stranger." — Editob. 


A  PROJECTED  EPIC.  179 

never  painted  the  picture.  "  I  could  not  do  it  justice,"  he 
said,  when  remonstrated  with  for  his  procrastination.  "  I 
should  fail  to  realize  the  grandeur  of  the  thing."  Thereupon 
Laurent- Jan,  who  had  no  bump  of  reverence,  proposed  a  poem 
in  so  many  cantos,  to  be  illustrated  by  Vernet.  I  give  the 
plan  as  developed  by  the  would-be  author. 

1.  The  kid  in  its  ancestral  home  among  the  mountains. 
A  mysterious  voice  from  heaven  tells  it  that  its  skin  will  be  re- 
quired for  a  pair  of  gloves.  The  kid  objects,  and  inquires  why 
the  skin  of  some  other  kid  will  not  do  as  well.  The  voice 
reveals  the  glorious  purpose  of  the  gloves.  The  kid  consents, 
and  at  the  same  moment  a  hunter  appears  in  sight.  The  kid, 
instead  of  taking  to  its  heels,  assumes  a  favourable  position  to 
be  shot.     It  makes  a  dying  speech. 

2.  A  glove-shop  on  the  Boulevard.  Enter  Napoleon  Ber- 
trand,  asking  for  a  pair  of  gloves.  The  girl  tells  him  that 
she  has  only  one  pair  left,  and  communicates  the  legend 
connected  with  it.  The  price  is  twenty  francs.  Napoleon 
Bertrand  demurs  at  it,  and  tells  her,  in  his  turn,  what  the 
gloves  are  wanted  for.  The  girl  refuses  to  take  the  money, 
and  her  employer,  overhearing  the  conversation,  dismisses  her 
there  and  then.  He  keeps  the  wages  due  to  her  as  the  price 
of  the  gloves.  Napoleon  Bertrand  puts  the  latter  in  his 
pocket,  oifers  the  girl  his  arm,  and  invites  her  to  breakfast  in 
a  cabinet particulier,  "  en  tout  bien,  en  tout,  honneur."  To 
prove  his  perfectly  honourable  intentions,  he  tells  her  the 
story  of  Jeanne  d'Arc.  The  girl's  imagination  is  fired  by  the 
recital,  and  after  luncheon  she  goes  in  search  of  a  book  on  the 
subject.  An  unscrupulous,  dishonest  second-hand  bookseller 
palms  ofE  an  edition  of  Voltaire's  "  La  Pucelle."  The  girl 
writes  to  Napoleon  Bertrand  to  tell  him  that  he  has  made  a 
fool  of  her,  that  Jeanne  d'Arc  was  no  better  than  she  should 
be,  and  that  she  is  going  to  join  the  harem  of  the  Bey  of 
Constantine. 

3.  Napoleon  Bertrand  stricken  with  remorse  before  Con- 
stantine. Orders  given  for  the  assault.  Napoleon  Bertrand 
looks  for  his  gloves,  and  finds  that  they  are  too  small.  He  can 
just  get  them  on,  but  cannot  grasp  the  handle  of  his  sword. 
His  servant  announces  a  mysterious  stranger,  a  veiled  female 
stranger.  She  is  admitted  ;  she  has  made  her  escape  from 
the  harem  ;  a  mysterious  voice  from  heaven — the  same  that 
spoke  to  the  kid — having  warned  her  the  night  before  that 
the  gloves  would  be  too  small,  and  that  she  was  to  let  a  piece 


180  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

in.  Eeconciliation.  Tableau.  The  bugles  are  sounding 
"  boot  and  saddle."    Storming  of  Constantine. 

I  have  reproduced  the  words  of  Laurent-Jan  ;  I  Avill  not 
attempt  to  reproduce  his  manner,  which  was  simply  inimi- 
table. Horace  Verrpt  and  Arthur  Bertrand  shook  with 
laughter,  and  the  la<  <;er  offered  Laurent- Jan  to  keep  him  for 
a  twelvemonth  if  he  would  write  the  poem.  Jan  consented, 
and  lived  upon  the  fat  of  the  land  during  that  time,  but  the 
poem  never  saw  the  light. 

Arthur  Bertrand  was  one  of  the  most  jovial  fellows  of  his 
time.  He,  Eugene  Sue,  and  Latour-Mezerai  were  the  best 
customers  of  the  florist  on  the  Boulevards.  It  was  he  who 
accompanied  the  Prince  de  Joinville  to  St.  Helena  to  bring 
back  the  remains  of  Napoleon.  After  their  return  a  new 
figure  joined  our  set  now  and  then.  It  was  the  Abbe  Coque- 
reau,  the  chaplain  of  "  La  Belle-Poule."  The  Abbe  Coque- 
reau  was  the  first  French  Catholic  priest  who  discarded  the 
gown  and  the  shovel  hat,  and  adopted  that  of  the  English 
clergy.  He  was  a  charming  man,  and  by  no  means  straight- 
laced,  but  he  drew  the  line  at  accompanying  Arthur  in  his 
nightly  perambulations.  One  evening  he,  Arthur  Bertrand, 
and  Alexandre  Dumas  were  strolling  along  the  Boulevards 
when  the  latter  tried  to  make  the  abbe  enter  the  Varietes. 
The  abbe  held  firm,  or  rather  took  to  his  heels. 

In  those  days  there  were  still  a  great  many  veterans  of 
the  grande  ar'mee  about,  and  a  great  deal  of  Horace  Vernet's 
money  went  in  entertaining  them  at  the  various  cafes  and 
restaurants — especially  when  he  was  preparing  sketches  for 
a  new  picture.  The  ordinary  model,  clever  and  eminently 
useful  as  he  was  at  that  period,  was  willingly  discarded  for 
the  old  and  bronzed  warrior  of  the  Empire,  some  of  whom 
were  even  then  returning  from  Africa.  "  They  may  just  as 
well  earn  the  money  I  pay  the  others,"  he  said  ;  consequently 
it  was  not  an  unusual  thing  to  see  a  general,  a  couple  of  colo- 
nels, half  a  dozen  captains,  and  as  many  sergeants  and  pri- 
vates, all  of  whom  had  served  under  Napoleon,  in  Vernet's 
studio  at  the  same  time.  Of  course,  the  oflBcers  were  only 
too  pleased  to  give  their  services  gratuitously,  but  Vernet  had 
a  curious  way  of  making  up  his  daily  budget.  Twenty  mod- 
els at  four  francs — for  models  earned  no  more  then — eighty 
francs.  Fifteen  of  them  refused  thier  pay.  The  eighty 
francs  to  be  divided  between  five.  And  the  five  veterans  en- 
joyed a  magnificent  income  for  weeks  and  weeks  at  a  time. 


A  PROFESSOR  OF  STREET  MUSIC.  Igl 

Truth  compels  me  to  state,  however,  that  during  those 
weeks  "  the  careful  mother  could  not  have  taken  her  daugh- 
ter "  to  Vernet's  studio.  A  couple  of  live  horses,  not  unfre- 
quently  three,  an  equal  nnmber  of  stuffed  ones,  camp  kettles, 
broken  limbers,  pieces  of  artillery,  an  overturned  ammuni- 
tion waggon,  a  collection  of  uniforms,  that  would  have  made 
the  fortune  of  a  costumier,  scattered  all  over  the  place ; 
drums,  swords,  guns  and  saddles :  and,  amidst  this  confusion, 
a  score  of  veterans,  some  of  whom  had  been  comrades-in-arms 
and  who  seemed  oblivious,  for  the  time  being,  of  their  hard- 
earned  promotion  in  the  company  of  those  who  had  been  less 
lucky  than  they,  every  man  smoking  his  hardest  and  telling 
his  best  garrison  story :  all  these  made  up  a  scene  worthy  of 
Vernet  himself,  but  somewhat  appalling  to  the  civilian  who 
happened  to  come  upon  it  unawares. 

Vernet  was  never  happier  than  when  at  work  under  such 
circumstances.  Perched  on  a  movable  scaffolding  or  on  a 
high  ladder,  he  reminded  one  much  more  of  an  acrobat  than 
of  a  painter.  Like  Dumas,  he  could  work  amidst  a  very  Ba- 
bel of  conversation,  but  the  sound  of  music,  however  good, 
disturbed  him.  In  those  days,  itinerant  Italian  musicians 
and  pifferari,  who  have  disappeared  from  the  streets  of  Paris 
altogether  since  the  decree  of  expulsion  of  '81,  were  numer- 
ous, and  grew  more  numerous  year  by  year.  I,  for  one,  feel 
sorry  for  their  disappearance,  for  I  remember  having  spent 
half  a  dozen  most  delightful  evenings  listening  to  them. 

The  thing  happened  in  this  way.  Though  my  regular 
visits  to  the  Quartier-Latin  had  ceased  long  ago,  I  returned 
now  and  then  to  my  old  haunts  during  the  years  '63  and  '64, 
in  company  of  a  young  Englishman  who  was  finishing  his 
medical  studies  in  Paris,  who  had  taken  up  his  quarters  on 
the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  and  who  has  since  become  a  phy- 
sician in  very  good  practice  in  the  French  capital.  He  had 
been  specially  recommended  to  me,  and  I  was  not  too  old  to 
enjoy  an  evening  once  a  week  or  a  fortnight  among  my  jun- 
iors. At  a  cafe,  which  has  been  demolished  since  to  make 
room  for  a  much  more  gorgeous  establishment  at  the  corners 
of  the  Boulevards  Saint-Michel  and  Saint- G-er main,  we  used 
to  notice  an  elderly  gentleman,  scrupulously  neat  and  exqui- 
sitely clean,  though  his  clothes  were  very  threadbare.  He 
always  sat  at  the  same  table  to  the  right  of  the  counter.  His 
cup  of  coffee  was  eked  out  by  frequent  supplements  of  water, 
and  meanwhile  he  was  always  busy  copying  music — at  least. 


182  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

so  it  seemed  to  us  at  first.  We  soon  came  to  a  different  con- 
clusion, though,  because  every  now  and  then  he  would  put 
down  his  pen,  lean  back  against  the  cushioned  seat,  look  up 
at  the  ceiling  and  smile  to  himself — such  a  sweet  smile ;  the 
smile  of  a  poet  or  an  artist,  seeking  inspiration  from  the  spir- 
its supposed  to  be  hovering  now  and  then  about  such. 

That  man  was  no  copyist,  but  an  obscure,  unappreciated 
genius,  perhaps,  biding  his  chance,  hoping  against  hope, 
meanwhile  living  a  life  of  Jealously  concealed  dreams  and 
hardship.  For  he  looked  sad  enough  at  the  best  of  times, 
with  a  kind  of  settled  melancholy  which  apparently  only  one 
thing  could  dispel — the  advent  of  a  couple  or  trio  of  pifferari. 
Then  his  face  would  light  up  all  of  a  sudden,  he  would  gently 
push  his  music  away,  speak  to  them  in  Italian,  asking  them 
to  play  certain  pieces,  beating  time  with  an  air  of  content- 
ment which  was  absolutely  touching  to  behold.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  young  pifferari  appeared  to  treat  him  with  greater 
deference  than  they  did  the  other  customers ;  the  little  girl 
who  accompanied  them  was  particularly  eager  for  his  approval. 

In  a  little  while  we  became  very  friendly  with  the  old  gen- 
tleman, and,  one  evening,  he  said,  "  If  you  will  be  here  next 
Wednesday,  the  pifferari  will  give  us  something  new." 

On  the  evening  in  question  he  looked  quite  smart ;  he  had 
evidently  "  fait  des  f rais  de  toilette,"  as  our  neighbours  have 
it ;  he  wore  a  different  coat,  and  his  big  white  neckcloth  was 
somewhat  more  starched  than  usual.  He  seemed  quite  ex- 
cited. The  pifferari,  on  the  other  hand,  seemed  anxious  and 
subdued.  The  cafe  was  very  full,  for  all  the  habitues  liked 
the  old  gentleman,  and  had  made  it  a  point  of  respond- 
ing to  his  quasi-invitation.  They  were  well  rewarded,  for  I 
have  rarely  heard  sweeter  music.  It  was  unlike  anything  we 
were  accustomed  to  hear  from  such  musicians ;  there  was  an 
old-world  sound  about  it  that  went  straight  to  the  heart,  and 
when  we  looked  at  the  old  gentleman  amidst  the  genuine  ap- 
plause after  the  termination  of  the  first  piece,  there  were  two 
big  tears  coursing  down  his  wrinkled  cheeks. 

The  pifferari  came  again  and  again,  and  though  they 
never  appealed  to  him  directly,  we  instinctively  guessed  that 
there  existed  some  connection  between  them.  All  our  efforts 
to  get  at  the  truth  of  the  matter  were,  however,  in  vain,  for 
the  old  gentleman  was  very  reticent. 

Meanwhile  my  young  friend  had  passed  his  examinations, 
and  shifted  his  quarters  to  my  side  of  the  river.     He  did  not 


THE  QUARTIER-LATIN  REVISITED.  183 

abandon  the  Quartier-Latin  altogether,  but  m}'  inquiries 
about  the  old  musician  met  with  no  satisfactory  response. 
He  had  disappeared.  Nearly  two  years  went  by,  when,  one 
afternoon,  he  called.  "  Come  with  me,"  he  said ;  "  I  am 
going  to  show  you  a  curious  nook  of  Paris  which  you  do  not 
knoAV,  and  take  you  to  an  old  acquaintance  whom  you  will  be 
pleased  to  see  again." 

The  "  curious  nook  "  of  Paris  still  exists  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, only  the  pilferari  have  disappeared  from  it.  It  is  situ- 
ated behind  the  Pantheon,  and  is  more  original  than  its 
London  counterpart — Saffron  Hill.  It  is  like  a  corner  of  old 
Eome,  Florence,  or  Naples,  without  the  glorious  Italian  sun 
shining  above  it  to  lend  picturesqueness  to  the  rags  and  tatters 
of  its  population  ;  swarthy  desperadoes  with  golden  rings  in 
their  ears  and  on  their  grimy  fingers,  their  greasy,  soft  felt 
hats  cocked  jauntily  on  their  heads,  or  drawn  over  the  flash- 
ing dark  eyes,  before  which  their  womankind  cower  and  shake ; 
old  men  who  but  for  the  stubble  on  their  chins  would  look 
like  ancient  cameos  ;  girls  with  shapely  limbs  and  handsome 
faces ;  middle-aged  women  who  remind  one  of  the  witches  in 
Macbeth ;  women  younger  still,  who  have  neither  shape  nor 
make  ;  urchins  and  little  lassies  who  remind  one  of  the  pict- 
ures of  Murillo  ;  in  short,  a  population  of  wood-carvers  and 
modellers,  vendors  of  plaster  casts,  artist-models,  sugar-bakers 
and  mosaic- workers,  living  in  the  streets  the  greater  part  of 
the  day,  retiring  to  their  wretched  attics  at  night,  sober  and 
peaceful  generally,  but  desperate  and  unmanageable  when  in 
their  cups. 

The  cab  stopped  before  a  six-storied  house  which  had  seen 
better  days,  in  a  dark,  narrow  street,  into  which  the  light  of 
day  scarcely  penetrated.  The  moment  we  alighted  we  heard 
a  charivari  of  string  instruments  and  voices,  and  as  we 
ascended  the  steep,  slimy,  rickety  staircase  the  sound  grew 
more  distinct.  When  we  reached  the  topmost  landing,  my 
friend  knocked  at  one  of  the  three  or  four  doors,  and,  without 
waiting  for  an  answer,  we  entered.  It  was  a  scantily  furnished 
room  with  a  bare  brick  floor,  an  old  bedstead  in  one  corner, 
a  few  rush-bottomed  chairs,  and  a  deal  table ;  but  every- 
thing was  scrupulously  clean.  Behind  the  table,  a  cotton 
nightcap  on  his  head,  his  tall  thin  frame  wrapt  in  an  old 
overcoat,  stood  our  old  friend,  the  composer ;  in  front,  half  a 
dozen  urchins,  in  costumes  vaguely  resembling  those  of  the 
Calabrian  peasantry,  grimy  like  coalheavers,  their  black  hair 


184  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

standing  on  end  with  attention,  were  rehearsing  a  new  piece 
of  music.  Then  I  understood  it  all.  He  was  the  professor 
of  pifferari,  an  artist  for  all  that,  an  unappreciated  genius, 
perhaps,  who,  rather  than  not  be  heard  at  all,  introduced  a 
composition  of  his  own  into  their  hackneyed  programme,  and 
tasted  the  sweets  of  popularity,  without  the  accompanying 
rewards  which,  nowadays,  popularity  invariably  brings.  This 
one  had  known  Paisiello  and  Eossini,  had  been  in  the  thick 
of  the  excitement  on  the  first  night  of  the  "  Barbiere,"  and 
had  dreamt  of  similar  triumphs.  Perhaps  his  genius  was  as 
much  entitled  to  them  as  that  of  the  others,  but  he  had 
loved  not  wisely,  but  too  well,  and  when  he  awoke  from  the 
love-dream,  he  was  too  ruined  in  body  and  mind  to  be  able 
to  work  for  the  realization  of  the  artistic  one.  He  would 
accept  no  aid  Three  years  later,  we  carried  him  to  his 
grave  A  simple  stone  marks  the  place  in  the  cemetery  of 
Montparnasse. 


LOUIS  PHILIPPE  AND  HIS  FAMILY.  185 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

Louis-Philippe  and  his  family — An  unpublished  theatrical  skit  on  his  mania 
for  shaking  liands  with  every  one — His  art  of  governinff,  according  to  the 
same  skit — Louis-Philippe  not  the  ardent  admirer  of  uie  bourgeoisie  ho 
professed  to  be — The  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  deserts  the  Tuileries — The 

English  in  too  great  a  majority — Lord 's  opinion  of  the  dinners  at  the 

Tuileries — The  attitude  of  the  bourgeoisie  towards  Louis-Philippe,  accord- 
ing to  the  King  himself — Louis-Pnilippe's  wit>— His  final  words  on  the 
death  of  Talleyrand — His  love  of  money — He  could  be  generous  at  times — 
A  story  of  the  Palais-Royal — Louis-Pliilippe  and  the  Marseillaise— Two 
curious  stories  connected  with  the  Marseillaise — Who  was  the  composer  of 
it  ? — Louis- Philippe's  opinion  of  the  throne,  the  crown,  and  the  sceptre  of 
France  as  additions  to  one's  comfort — His  cliildren,  and  especially  his  sons, 
take  things  more  easily— Even  the  Bonapartists  admired  some  of  the  latter 
— A  mot  of  an  Imperialist — How  the  boys  were  brought  up — Their  noctur- 
n:-l  rambles  later  on — The  King  himself  does  not  seem  to  mind  those  esca- 
pades, but  is  frightened  at  M.  Guizot  hearing  of  them — Louis-Philippe  did 
not  understand  Guizot — The  recollection  of  his  former  misery  frequently 
haunts  the  King— He  worries  Queen  Victoria  with  his  fear  of  becoming 
poor — Louis-Philippe  an  excellent  husband  and  father — He  wants  to  write 
the  libretto  of  an  opera  on  an  English  subject — His  religion — The  court 
receptions  ridiculous — Even  the  proletariat  sneer  at  them — The  entree  of 
the  Duchesse  d'Orleans  into  Paris — The  scene  in  the  Tuileries  gardens — A 
mot  of  Princesse  Clementine  on  her  fathers  too  paternal  solicitude — A 
practical  joke  of  the  Prince  de  Joinville — His  caricatures  and  drawings — 
The  children  inherited  their  talent  for  drawing  and  modelling  from  their 
mother — The  Due  de  Nemours  as  a  miniature  and  water-colour  painter — 
Suspected  of  being  a  Legitimist — All  Louis- Philippe's  children  great  pa- 
trons of  art — How  the  bourgeoisie  looked  upon  their  intercouree  with  artists 
— The  Due  de  Nemours'  marvellous  memory — The  studio  of  Eugene  Lami 
— His  neighbours,  Paul  Delaroche  and  Honore  de  Balzac — The  Due  de 
Nemoui-s'  bravery  called  in  (question — The  Due  d'Aumale's  exploits  in 
Algeria  considered  mere  skinnishes— A  curious  story  of  spiritism — The  Due 
d'Aumale  a  greater  favourite  with  the  world  than  any  of  the  other  sons  of 
Louis-Philippe — His  wit — The  Due  d'Orleans  also  a'  great  favourite — His 
visits  to  Decamps'  studio — An  indifierent  classical  scholar — A  curious  kind 
of  black-mail — His  indifference  to  money — There  is  no  money  in  a  Eepub- 
lic — His  death — A  witty  reply  to  the  Legitimists. 

As  will  appear  by-and-by,  I  was  an  eye-witness  of  a  good 
many  incidents  of  the  Eevolution  of  '48,  and  a  great  many 
more  have  been  related  to  me  by  friends,  whose  veracity  was 
and  still  is  beyond  suspicion.  Is  either  they  nor  I  have  ever 
been  able  to  establish  a  sufi&ciently  valid  political  cause  for 


186  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

that  upheaval.  Perhaps  it  was  becausfe  we  were  free  from 
the  prejudices  engendered  by  what,  for  want  of  a  better  term, 
I  must  call  "  dynastic  sentiment."  "We  were  not  blind  to 
the  faults  of  Louis-Philippe,  but  we  refused  to  look  at  them 
through  the  spectacles  supplied  in  turns  by  the  Legitimists, 
the  Imperialists,  and  Kepublicans.  How  far  these  spectacles 
were  calculated  to  improve  people's  vision,  the  following 
specimen  will  show. 

I  have  lying  before  me  a  few  sheets  of  quarto  paper, 
sewn  together  in  a  primitive  way.  It  is  a  manuscript  skit, 
in  the  form  of  a  theatrical  duologue,  professing  to  deal  with 
the  king's  well-known  habit  of  shaking  hands  with  every  one 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  The  dramatis  personce  are 
King  Fip  L,  Roi  des  Epiciers-read,  King  of  the  Philistines 
or  Shopkeepers,  and  his  son  and  heir.  Grand  Poulot  (Big 
Spooney).  The  monarch  is  giving  the  heir-apparent  a  lesson 
in  the  art  of  governing.  "  Do  not  be  misled,"  he  says,  "  by 
a  parcel  of  theorists,  who  will  tell  you  that  the  citizen-mon- 
archy is  based  upon  the  sovereign  will  of  the  people,  or  upon 
the  strict  observance  of  the  Charter ;  this  is  merely  so  much 
drivel  from  the  political  Eights  or  Lefts.  In  reality,  it  does 
not  signify  a  jot  whether  France  be  free  at  home  and  feared 
and  respected  abroad,  whether  the  throne  be  hedged  round 
with  republican  institutions  or  supported  by  an  hereditary 
peerage,  whether  the  language  of  her  statesmen  be  weighty 
and  the  deeds  of  her  soldiers  heroic.  The  citizen-monarchy 
and  the  art  of  governing  consist  of  but  one  thing — the 
capacity  of  the  principal  ruler  for  shaking  hands  with  any 
and  every  ragamiiffin  and  out-of-elbows  brute  he  meets." 
Thereupon  King  Fip  shows  his  son  how  to  shake  hands  in 
every  conceivable  position — on  foot,  on  horseback,  at  a  gallop, 
at  a  trot,  leaning  out  of  a  carriage,  and  so  forth.  Grand 
Poulot  is  not  only  eager  to  learn,  but  ambitious  to  improve 
upon  his  sire's  method.  "  How  would  it  do,  dad,"  he  asks, 
"  if,  in  addition  to  shaking  hands  with  them,  one  inquired 
after  their  health,  in  the  second  person  singular — '  Comment 
vas  tu,  mon  vieux  cochon  ? '  or,  better  still, '  Comment  vas  tu, 
mon  vieux  citoyen?'"  "It  would  do  admirably,"  says 
papa;  "but  it  does  not  matter  whether  you  say  cochon  or 
citoyen,  the  terms  are  synonymous." 

i  am  inclined  to  think  that  beneath  this  rather  clever 
banter  there  was  a  certain  measure  of  truth.  Louis-Philippe 
was  by  no  means  the  ardent  admirer  of  the  bourgeoisie  he 


LOUIS-PHILIPPE'S  COURT.  187 

professed  to  be.  He  did  not  foster  any  illusions  with  regard 
to  their  intellectual  worth,  and  in  his  inmost  heart  he  re- 
sented their  so-called  admiration  of  him,  which  he  knew  to 
be  would-be  patronage  under  another  name.  They  had 
formed  a  hedge  round  him  which  prevented  any  attempt  on 
his  part  at  conciliating  his  own  caste,  the  old  noblesse.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  he  would  have  been  successful,  especially 
in  the  earlier  years  of  his  reign ;  but  their  ostracism  of  him 
and  his  family  rankled  in  his  mind,  and  found  vent  now  and 
again  in  an  epigram  that  stung  the  author  as  much  as  the 
party  against  which  it  was  directed.  "  There  is  more  diffi- 
culty in  getting  people  to  my  court  entertainments  from 
across  the  Seine  than  from  across  the  Channel,"  he  said. 

The  fact  is,  that  the  whole  of  the  Faubourg  St.-Germain 
was  conspicuous  by  its  absence  from  the  Tuileries  in  those 
days,  and  that  the  English  were  in  rather  too  great  a 
majority.  They  were  not  always  a  distinguished  company. 
I  was  little  more  than  a  lad  at  this  time,  but  I  remember 

Lord 's  invariable  answer  when  his  friends  asked  him  what 

the  dinner  had  been  like,  and  whether  he  had  enjoyed  him- 
self :  "  The  dinner  was  like  that  at  a  good  table-d'hote,  and  I 
enjoyed  myself  as  I  would  enjoy  myself  at  a  good  hotel  in 
Switzerland  or  at  Wiesbaden,  where  the  proprietor  knew  me 
personally,  and  had  given  orders  to  the  head  waiter  to  look 
after  my  comforts.  But,"  he  added,  "  it  is,  after  all,  more 
pleasant  dining  there,  when  the  English  are  present.  At 
any  rate,  there  is  no  want  of  respect.  When  the  French  sit 
round  the  table,  it  is  not  like  a  king  dining  with  his  sub- 
jects, but  like  half  a  hundred  kings  dining  with  one  subject." 
Allowing  for  a  certain  amount  of  exaggeration,  there  was  a 
good  deal  of  truth  in  the  remarks,  as  I  found  out  afterwards. 
"  The  bourgeoisie  in  their  attitude  towards  me,"  said  Louis- 
Philippe,  one  day,  to  the  English  nobleman  I  have  just 
quoted,  "  are  always  reminding  me  of  Adalberon  of  Eheims 
with  Hugues  Capet :  '  Qui  t'as  fait  roi  ? '  asked  the  bishop. 
'  Qui  t'as  fait  due  ? '  retorted  the  king.  I  have  made  them 
dukes  to  a  greater  extent,  though,  than  they  have  made  me 
king." 

For  Louis-Philippe  was  a  witty  king — wittier,  perhaps, 
than  any  that  had  sat  on  the  throne  of  France  since  Henri 
IV.  Some  of  his  mots  have  become  historical,  and  even  his 
most  persistent  detractors  have  been  unable  to  convict  him 
of  plagiarism  with  regard  to  them.     What  he  specially  ex- 


188  AN  E^^GLISHMAN    IN  PARIS. 

celled  in  was  the  "  mot  de  la  fin  "  anglic6 — the  clenching  of 
an  argument,  such  as,  for  instance,  his  final  remark  on  the 
death  of  Talleyrand.  He  had  paid  him  a  visit  the  day  be- 
fore. When  the  news  of  the  prince's  death  was  brought  to 
him,  he  said,  "  Are  you  sure  he  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Veiy  sure,  sire,"  was  the  answer.  "  Why,  did  not  your 
majesty  himself  notice  yesterday  that  he  was  dying  ?  " 

"  I  did,  but  there  is  no  judging  from  appearances  with 
Talleyrand,  and  I  have  been  asking  myself  for  the  last  four 
and  twenty  hours  what  interest  he  could  possibly  have  in 
departing  at  this  particular  moment." 

To  those  who  knew  Louis-Philippe  personally,  it  was 
very  patent  that  he  disliked  those  who  had  been  instrumental 
in  setting  him  on  the  throne,  and  who,  under  the  cloak  of 
"  liberty,  fraternity,  and  equality,"  were  seeking  their  own 
interest  only,  namely,  the  bourgeoisie.  He  knew  their  quasi- 
good  will  to  him  to  be  so  much  sheer  hypocrisy,  and  perhaps 
he  and  they  were  too  much  alike  in  some  respects,  in  their 
love  of  money  for  the  sake  of  hoarding  it.  It  was,  perhaps, 
the  only  serious  failing  that  could  be  laid  to  the  charge  of 
the  family,  because  none  of  its  members,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Due  d'Orleans,  were  entirely  free  from  it.  It  must 
not  be  inferred,  though,  that  Louis- Philippe  kept  his  purse 
closed  to  really  deserving  cases  of  distress.  Far  from  it.  I 
have  the  following  story  from  my  old  tutor,  to  whom  I  am, 
moreover,  indebted  for  a  great  many  notes,  dealing  with 
events  of  which  I  could  not  possibly  have  had  any  knowledge 
but  for  him. 

In  1829  the  greater  part  of  the  Galerie  d'Orleans  in  the 
Palais-Royal  was  completed.  The  unsightly  wooden  booths 
had  been  taken  down,  and  the  timber  must  have  been  decid- 
edly worth  a  small  fortune.  Several  contractors  made  very 
handsome  offers  for  it,  but  Louis-Philippe  (then  Due  d'Or- 
leans) refused  to  sell  it.  It  was  to  be  distributed  among  the 
poor  of  the  neighbourhood  for  fuel  for  the  ensuing  winter, 
which  threatened  to  be  a  severe  one.  One  day,  when  the 
duke  was  inspecting  the  works  in  company  of  his  steward, 
an  individual,  who  was  standing  a  couple  of  yards  away,  be- 
gan to  shout  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Vive  Louis-Philippe ! " 
"  Go  and  see  what  the  fellow  wants,  for  assuredly  he  wants 
something,"  said  the  duke,  who  was  a  Voltairean  in  his  way, 
and  had  interpreted  the  man's  enthusiasm  aright.  Papa 
Sournois  was  one  of  those  nondescripts  for  whom  even  now 


LOUIS-PHILIPPE  AND  THE  MAESEILLAISE.        189 

there  appear  to  be  more  resources  in  the  French  capital  than 
elsewhere.  At  the  period  in  question  he  mainly  got  his  liv- 
ing by  selling  contre-marques  (checks)  at  the  doors  of  the 
theatre.  He  had  heard  of  the  duke's  intention  with  regard 
to  the  wood,  hence  his  enthusiastic  cry  of  "Vive  Louis- 
Philippe  ! "  A  cartload  of  wood  was  sent  to  his  place ;  papa 
Sournois  converted  it  into  money,  and  got  drunk  with  the 
proceeds  for  a  fortnight.  When  the  steward,  horribly  scan- 
dalized, told  the  duke  of  the  results  of  his  benevolence,  the 
latter  merely  laughed,  and  sent  for  the  wife,  who  made  her 
appearance  accompanied  by  a  young  brood  of  five.  The 
duke  gave  her  a  five-franc  piece,  and  told  her  to  apply  to 
the  concierge  of  the  Palais-Eoyal  for  a  similar  sum  every 
day  during  the  winter  months.  Of  course,  five  francs  a  day 
was  not  as  much  as  a  drop  of  water  out  of  the  sea  when  we 
consider  Louis-Philippe's  stupendous  income,  and  yet  when 
the  Tuileries  were  sacked  in  1848,  documents  upon  docu- 
ments were  found,  compiled  with  the  sole  view  of  saving  a 
few  francs  per  diem  out  of  the  young  princes'  "  keep." 

"  I  am  so  sick  of  the  word  '  fraternity,' "  said  Prince 
Metternich,  after  his  return  from  France,  "  that,  if  I  had  a 
brother,  I  should  call  him  cousin."  Though  it  was  to  the 
strains  of  the  Marseillaise  that  Louis- Philippe  had  been  con- 
ducted to  the  H6tel-de-Ville  on  the  day  when  Lafayette 
pointed  to  him  as  "  the  best  of  all  republics,"  a  time  came 
when  Louis-Philippe  got  utterly  sick  of  the  Marseillaise. 

But  what  was  he  to  do,  seeing  that  his  attempt  at  intro- 
ducing a  new  national  hymn  had  utterly  failed  ?  The  mob 
refused  to  sing  "  La  Parisienne,"  composed  by  Casimir  de 
la  Vigne,  after  Alexandre  Dumas  had  refused  to  write  a  na- 
tional hymn ;  and  they,  moreover,  insisted  on  the  King 
joining  in  the  chorus  of  the  old  hymn,  as  he  had  hitherto 
done  on  all  public  occasions.*  They  had  grumblingly  re- 
signed themselves  to  his  beating  time  no  longer,  but  any 
further  refusal  of  his  co-operation  might  have  been  resented 
in  a  less  peaceful  fashion.     On  the  other  hand,  there  was 


*  When  there  was  no  public  occasion,  his  political  anta^ronists  or  merely 
practical  jokers  who  knew  of  his  dislike  invented  one,  like  ifdouard  d'Ourliae, 
a  well-known  journalist  and  the  author  of  several  novels,  who,  whenever  he 
had  nothing  better  to  do,  recruited  a  band  of  street  arabs  to  go  and  sing  the 
Marseillaise  under  the  king's  windows.  They  kept  on  singing  until-  Louis- 
Philippe,  in  sheer  self-defence,  was  obliged  to  come  out  and  join  in  the  song. — 
Editor. 


190  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  bourgeoisie  who  were  of  opinion  that,  now  that  the  mon- 
archy had  entered  upon  a  more  conservative  period,  the  in- 
toning of  the  hymn,  at  any  rate  on  the  sovereign's  part,  was 
out  of  place,  and  savoured  too  much  of  a  republican  mani- 
festation,    "  It  was  Guizot  who  told  him  so,"  said  Lord , 

who  had  been  standing  on  the  balcony  of  the  Tuileries  on 
the  occasion  of  the  king's  "  saint's  day,"  *  and  had  heard  the 
minister  make  the  remark. 

"  And  what  did  the  king  reply  ?  "  was  the  question. 

"  Do  not  worry  yourself,  monsieur  le  ministre  ;  I  am  only 
moving  my  lips ;  I  have  ceased  to  pronounce  the  words  for 
many  a  day." 

These  were  the  expedients  to  which  Louis- Philippe  was 
reduced  before  he  had  been  on  the  throne  half  a  dozen  years. 
"  I  am  like  the  fool  between  two  stools,"  observed  the  king 

in  English,  afterwards,  when  speaking  to  Lord ,  "  only 

I  happen  to  be  between  the  comfortably  stuffed  easy-chair  of 
the  bourgeois  drawing-room  and  the  piece  of  furniture 
seated  on  which  Louis  XIV.  is  said  to  have  received  the 
Dutch  ambassadors." 

While  speaking  of  the  Marseillaise,  here  are  two  stories 
in  connection  with  it  which  are  not  known  to  the  general 
reader.  The  first  was  told  to  me  by  the  old  tutor  already 
mentioned  ;  the  second  aroused  a  great  deal  of  literary  curi- 
osity in  the  year  1860,  and  bears  the  stamp  of  truth  on  the 
face  of  it.  It  was,  however,  never  fully  investigated,  or,  at  any 
rate,  the  results  of  the  investigation  were  never  published. f 

"  We  were  all  more  or  less  aware,"  said  my  informant, 
"  that  Eouget  de  I'Isle  was  not  the  author  of  the  whole  of 
the  words  of  the  Marseillaise.  But  none  of  us  in  Lyons, 
where  I  was  born,  knew  who  had  written  the  last  strophe, 
commonly  called  the  '  strophe  of  the  children,'  and  I  doubt 
whether  they  were  any  wiser  in  Paris.  Some  of  my  fellow- 
students — for  I  was  nearly  eighteen  at  that  time — credited 
Andre  Chenier  with  the  authorship  of  the  last  strophe,  oth- 
ers ascribed  it  to  Louis-Fran9ois  Dubois,  the  poet.J  All  this 
was,  however,  so  much  guess-work,  when,  one  day  during  the 

*  In  France  it  is  the  Patron  Saint's  day,  not  the  birthday,  that  is  kept. 

■j- 1  have  insei-ted  them  here  in  order  not  to  fall  into  repetitions  on  the  same 
subject. — Editor. 

X  Louis-Francois  Dubois,  the  author  of  several  heroic  poems, "  Ankarstrom," 
"  Genevieve  et  Siegfried,"  etc.,  which  are  utterly  forgotten.  His  main  title  to 
the  recollection  of  posterity  consists  in  his  having  saved,  during  the  Revolution, 


A  STORY  OF  THE  MARSEILLAISE.  191 

Eeign  of  Terror,  the  report  spread  that  a  ci-devant  priest, 
or  rather  a  priest  who  had  refused  to  take  the  oath  to  the 
Republic,  had  been  caught  solemnizing  a  religious  marriage, 
and  that  he  was  to  be  brought  before  the  Eevolutionary  Tri- 
bunal that  same  afternoon.  Though  you  may  not  think  so, 
merely  going  by  what  you  have  read,  the  appearance  of  a 
priest  before  the  Tribunal  always  aroused  more  than  com- 
mon interest,  nor  have  you  any  idea  what  more  than  com- 
mon interest  meant  in  those  days.  A  priest  to  the  Revo- 
lutionaries and  to  the  Terrorists,  they  might  hector  and 
bully  as  they  liked,  was  not  an  ordinary  being.  They  looked 
upon  him  either  as  something  better  than  a  man  or  worse 
than  a  devil.  They  had  thrown  the  religious  compass  they 
had  brought  from  home  with  them  overboard,  and  they  had 
not  the  philosophical  one  to  take  its  place.  You  may  work 
out  the  thing  for  yourself;  at  any  rate,  the  place  was 
crammed  to  suffocation  when  we  arrived  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville.  It  was  a  large  room,  at  the  upper  end  of  which  stood 
an  oblong  table,  covered  with  a  black  cloth.  Seated  around 
it  were  seven  self-constituted  judges.  Besides  their  tricolour 
scarfs  round  their  waists,  they  wore,  suspended  by  a  ribbon 
from  their  necks,  a  small  silver  axe. 

"  As  a  rule  there  was  very  little  speechifying.  '  La  mort 
sans  phrase,'  which  had  become  the  fashion  since  Louis  XVI.'s 
execution,  was  strictly  adhered  to.  Half  a  dozen  prisoners 
were  brought  in  and  taken  away  without  arousing  the  slight- 
est excitement,  either  in  the  way  of  commiseration  or  hatred. 
After  having  listened,  the  judges  either  extended  their  hands 
on  the  table  or  put  them  to  their  foreheads.  The  first  move- 
ment meant  acquittal  and  liberation,  the  second  death ;  not 
always  by  the  guillotine  though,  for  the  instrument  was  not 
perfect  as  yet,  and  did  not  work  sufficiently  quickly  to  please 
them.  All  at  once  the  priest  was  brought  in,  and  a  dead  si- 
lence prevailed.  He  was  not  a  very  old  man,  though  his  hair 
was  snow-white. 

" '  Who  art  thou  ? '  asked  the  president. 

"  The  prisoner  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height.  '  I 
am  the  Abbe  Pessoneaux,  a  former  tutor  at  the  college  at 
Vienne,  and  the  author  of  the  last  strophe  of  the  Marseillaise,' 
he  said  quietly. 

a  great  many  literary  works  of  value,  which  he  returned  to  the  State  afterwards. 
—Editor. 


192  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"  I  cannot  convey  to  you  the  impression  produced  by  those 
simple  words.  The  silence  became  positively  oppressive ;  you 
could  hear  the  people  breathe.  The  president  did  not  say 
another  word ;  the  priest's  reply  had  apparently  stunned  him 
also :  he  merely  turned  round  to  his  fellow-judges.  Soldiers 
and  gaolers  stood  as  if  turned  into  stone ;  every  eye  was  di- 
rected towards  the  table,  watching  for  the  movement  of  the 
judges'  hands.  Slowly  and  deliberately  they  stretched  them 
forth,  and  then  a  deafening  cheer  rang  through  the  room. 
The  Abbe  Pessoneaux  owed  his  life  to  his  strophe,  for, 
though  his  story  was  not  questioned  then,  it  was  proved  true 
in  every  particular.  On  their  way  to  Paris  to  be  present  at 
the  taking  of  the  Tuileries  on  the  10th  of  August,  the  Mar- 
seillais  had  stopped  at  Vienne  to  celebrate  the  F^te  of  the 
Federation.  On  the  eve  of  their  arrival  the  Abbe  Pessoneaux 
had  composed  the  strophe,  and  but  for  his  seizure  the  author- 
ship would  have  always  remained  a  matter  of  conjecture,  for 
Eouget  de  I'lsle  would  have  never  had  the  honesty  to  ac- 
knowledge it." 

My  tutor  was  right,  and  I  owe  him  this  tardy  apology ;  it 
appears  that,  after  all,  Eouget  de  I'lsle  had  not  the  honesty  to 
acknowledge  openly  his  indebtedness  to  those  who  made  his 
name  immortal,  and  that  his  share  in  the  Marseillaise  amounts 
to  the  first  six  strophes.  He  did  not  write  a  single  note  of 
the  music.  The  latter  was  composed  by  Alexandre  Boucher, 
the  celebrated  violinist,  in  1790,  in  the  drawing-room  of  Ma- 
dame de  Mortaigne,  at  the  request  of  a  colonel  whom  the 
musician  had  never  met  before,  whom  he  never  saw  again. 
The  soldier  was  starting  next  morning  with  his  regiment  for 
Marseilles,  and  pressed  Boucher  to  write  him  a  march  there 
and  then.  Eouget  de  I'lsle,  an  officer  of  engineers,  having 
been  imprisoned  in  1791,  for  having  refused  to  take  a  second 
oath  to  the  Constitution,  heard  the  march  from  his  cell,  and, 
at  the  instance  of  his  gaoler,  adapted  the  words  of  a  patriotic 
hymn  he  was  then  writing  to  it. 

One  may  fancy  the  surprise  of  Alexandre  Boucher,  when 
he  heard  it  sung  everywhere  and  recognized  it  as  his  own 
composition,  though  it  had  been  somewhat  altered  to  suit  the 
words.  But  the  pith  of  the  story  is  to  come.  I  give  it  in 
the  very  words  of  Boucher  himself,  as  he  told  it  to  a  Paris 
journalist  whom  I  knew  well. 

"A  good  many  years  afterwards,  I  was  seated  next  to 
Eouget  de  I'lsle  at  a  dinner-party  in  Paris.     We  had  never 


WHO  WROTE  THE  MUSIC.  193 

met  before,  and,  as  you  may  easily  imagine,  I  was  rather  in- 
terested in  the  gentleman,  whom,  with  many  others  at  the 
same  board,  I  complimented  on  his  production ;  only  I  con- 
fined myself  to  complimenting  him  on  his  poem. 

" '  You  don't  say  a  word  about  the  music,'  he  replied ; '  and 
yet,  being  a  celebrated  musician,  that  ought  to  interest  you. 
Do  not  you  like  it  ? ' 

"  '  Very  much  indeed,'  I  said,  in  a  somewhat  significant 
tone. 

" '  Well,  let  me  be  frank  with  you.  The  music  is  not 
mine.  It  was  that  of  a  march  which  came.  Heaven  knows 
whence,  and  which  they  kept  on  playing  at  Marseilles  during 
the  Terror,  when  I  was  a  prisoner  at  the  fortress  of  St.  Jean. 
I  made  a  few  alterations  necessitated  by  the  words,  and  there 
it  is.' 

"  Thereupon,  to  his  great  surprise,  I  hummed  the  march 
as  I  had  originally  written  it. 

" '  Wonderful ! '  he  exclaimed ;  '  how  did  you  come  by  it  ? ' 
he  asked. 

"  When  I  told  him,  he  threw  himself  round  my  neck.  But 
the  next  moment  he  said — 

"  '  I  am  very  sorry,  my  dear  Boucher,  but  I  am  afraid  that 
you  will  be  despoiled  for  ever,  do  what  you  will ;  for  your 
music  and  my  words  go  so  well  together,  that  they  seem  to 
have  sprung  simultaneously  from  the  same  brain,  and  the 
world,  even  if  I  proclaimed  my  indebtedness  to  you,  would 
never  believe  it.' 

" '  Keep  the  loan,'  I  said,  moved,  in  spite  of  myself,  by  his 
candour.  '  Without  your  genius,  my  march  would  be  forgot- 
ten by  now.  You  have  given  it  a  patent  of  nobility.  It  is 
yours  for  ever.' " 

I  return  to  Louis- Philippe,  who,  at  the  time  of  my  tutor's 
story,  and  for  some  years  afterwards,  I  only  knew  from  the 
reports  that  were  brought  home  to  us.  Of  course,  I  saw  him 
several  times  at  a  distance,  at  reviews,  and  on  popular  holi- 
days, and  I  was  surprised  that  a  king  of  whom  every  one 
spoke  so  well  in  private,  who  seemed  to  have  so  much  cause 
for  joy  and  happiness  in  his  own  family,  should  look  so  care- 
worn and  depressed  in  public.  For,  young  as  I  was,  I  did 
not  fail  to  see  that,  beneath  the  calm  and  smiling  exterior, 
there  was  a  great  deal  of  hidden  grief.  But  I  was  too  young 
to  understand  the  deep  irony  of  his  reply  to  one  of  my  rela- 
tives, a  few  months  before  his  accession  to  the  throne  :  "  The 


194  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

crown  of  France  is  too  cold  in  winter,  too  warm  in  summer ; 
the  sceptre  is  too  blunt  as  a  weapon  of  defence  or  attack,  it 
is  too  short  as  a  stick  to  lean  upon :  a  good  felt  hat  and  a 
strong  umbrella  are  at  all  times  more  useful."  Above  all,  I 
was  too  young  to  understand  the  temper  of  the  French  where 
their  rulers  were  concerned,  and  though,  at  the  time  of  my 
writing  these  notes,  I  have  lived  for  fifty  years  amongst  them, 
I  doubt  whether  I  could  ^ive  a  succinct  psychological  ac- 
count of  their  mental  attitude  towards  their  succeeding  re- 
gimes, except  by  borrowing  the  words  of  one  of  their  cleverest 
country-women,  Madame  Emile  de  Girardin :  "  When  Mar- 
shal Soult  is  in  the  Opposition,  he  is  acknowledged  to  have 
won  the  battle  of  Toulouse ;  when  he  belongs  to  the  Govern- 
ment, he  is  accused  of  having  lost  it."  Since  then  the  Ameri- 
cans have  coined  a  word  for  that  state  of  mind — "  cussed- 
ness." 

Louis- Philippe's  children,  and  especially  his  sons,  some  of 
whom  I  knew  personally  before  I  had  my  first  invitation  to 
the  Tuileries,  seemed  to  take  matters  more  cheerfully.  Save 
the  partisans  of  the  elder  branch,  no  one  had  a  word  to  say 
against  them.  On  the  contrary,  even  the  Bonapartists  ad- 
mired their  manly  and  straightforward  bearing.  I  remember 
being  at  Tortoni's  one  afternoon  when  the  Due  d'Orleans  and 
his  brother,  the  Due  de  Nemours,  rode  by.  Two  of  my 
neighbours,  unmistakable  Imperialists,  and  old  soldiers  by 
their  looks,  stared  very  hard  at  them ;  then  one  said,  "  Si  le 
petit  au  lieu  de  filer  le  parfait  amour  partout,  avait  mis  tons 
ses  oeufs  dans  le  meme  panier,  il  aurait  eu  des  grands  comme 
cela  et  nous  ne  serious  pas  dans  I'impasse  oil  nous  sommes." 

"  Mon  cher,"  replied  the  other,  "  des  grands  comme  cela 
ne  se  font  qu'a  loisir,  pas  entre  deux  campagnes."  * 

The  admiration  of  these  two  veterans  was  perfectly  justi- 
fied :  they  were  very  handsome  young  men,  the  sons  of  Louis- 
Philippe,  and  notably  the  two  elder  ones,  though  the  Due 
d'Orleans  was  somewhat  more  delicate-looking  than  his 
brother,  De  Nemours.  The  boys  had  all  been  brought  up 
very  sensibly,  perhaps  somewhat  too  strict  for  their  position. 
They  all  went  to  a  public  school,  to  the  College  Henri  IV., 

*  It  reminds  one  of  the  answer  of  the  younger  Dumas  to  a  gentleman  whose 
wife  had  been  notorious  for  her  conjugal  faithlessness,  and  whose  sons  were  all 
weaklings.  "  Ah,  Monsieur  Dumas,  c^est  un  fils  comme  vous  qu'il  mc  fallaitj" 
he  exclaimed.  "  Mon  cher  monsieur,"  came  the  reply,  "  quand  on  veut  avoir 
un  fils  comma  moi,  il  faut  1«  faire  soi-m^me." — Editob! 


LOUIS-PHILIPPE'S  DREAD  OF  POVERTY.  I95 

and  I  remember  well,  about  the  year  '38,  when  I  had  occasion 
of  a  morning  to  cross  the  Pont-Neuf,  where  there  were  still 
stalls  and  all  sorts  of  booths,  seeing  the  blue-and-yellow  car- 
riage with  the  royal  livery.  It  contained  the  Dues  d'Aumale 
and  de  Montpensier,  who  had  not  finished  their  studies  at 
that  time. 

But  though  strictly  brought  up,  they  were  by  no  means 
milksops,  and  what,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  I  may  call 
"  mother's  babies :  "  quite  the  reverse.  It  was  never  known 
how  they  managed  it,  but  at  night,  when  they  were  supposed 
to  be  at  home,  if  not  in  bed,  they  were  to  be  met  with  at  all 
kinds  of  public  places,  notably  at  the  smaller  theatres,  such 
as  the  Vaudeville,  the  Varietes,  and  the  Palais-Eoyal,  one  of 
which,  at  any  rate,  was  a  goodly  distance  from  the  Tuileries. 
It  was  always  understood  that  the  King  knew  nothing  about 
these  little  escapades,  but  I  am  inclined  to  doubt  this :  I  fancy 

he  connived  at   them ;   because,  when   Lord told  him 

casually  one  day  that  he  had  met  his  sons  the  night  before, 
Louis-Philippe  seemed  not  in  the  least  surprised,  he  only 
anxiously  asked,  "Where?" 

"  At  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  your  majesty." 

The  king  seemed  relieved.  "  That's  all  right,"  he  said, 
laughing.  "  As  long  as  they  do  not  go  into  places  where  they 
are  likely  to  meet  with  Guizot,  I  don't  mind ;  for  if  he  saw 
them  out  in  the  evening,  it  might  cost  me  my  throne.  Gui- 
zot is  so  terribly  respectable.  I  am  afraid  there  is  a  mistake 
either  about  his  nationality  or  about  his  respectability ;  they 
are  badly  matched." 

The  fact  is,  that  though  Louis- Philippe  admired  and  re- 
spected Guizot,  he  failed  to  understand  him.  To  the  most 
respectable  of  modern  kings — not  even  Charles  I.  and  William 
III.  excepted — if  by  respectability  we  mean  an  unblemished 
private  life — Guizot's  respectability  was  an  enigma.  The  man 
who,  in  spite  of  his  advice  to  others,  "Enrichissez  vous,  en- 
richissez  vous,"  was  as  poor  at  the  end  of  his  ministerial 
career  as  at  the  beginning,  must  have  necessarily  been  a  puz- 
zle to  a  sovereign  who,  with  a  civil  list  of  £750,000,  was 
haunted  by  the  fear  of  poverty,  and  haunted  to  such  a  degree 
as  to  harass  his  friends  and  counsellors  with  his  apprehen- 
sions. "  My  dear  minister,"  he  said  one  day  to  Guizot,  after 
he  had  recited  a  long  list  of  his  domestic  charges — "  My  dear 
minister,  I  am  telling  you  that  my  children  will  be  wanting 
for  bread."    The  recollection  of  his  former  misery  uprose  too 


196  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

frequently  before  him  like  a  horrible  nightmare,  and  made 
him  the  first  bourgeois  instead  of  the  first  gentilhomme  of 
the  kingdom,  as  his  predecessors  had  been.  When  a  trades- 
man drops  a  shilling  and  does  not  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  his 
neglect  becomes  almost  culpable  improvidence ;  when  a  prince 
drops  a  sovereign  and  looks  for  it,  the  deed  may  be  justly 
qualified  as  mean.  The  leitmotif  oi  Louis-Philippe's  conver- 
sation, witty  and  charming  as  it  was,  partook  of  the  avari- 
cious spirit  of  a  Thomas  Guy  and  a  John  Overs  rather  than 
of  that  of  the  great  adventurer  John  Law.  The  chinking  of 
the  money-bags  is  audible  through  both,  but  in  the  one  case 
the  orchestration  is  strident,  disagreeable,  depressing ;  in  the 
other,  it  is  generous,  overflowing  with  noble  impulses,  and 
cheering.  I  recollect  that  during  my  stay  at  Treport  and 
Eu,  in  1843,  when  Queen  Victoria  paid  her  visit  to  Louis- 
Philippe,  the  following  story  was  told  to  me.     Lord and 

I  were  quartered  in  a  little  hostelry  on  the  Place  du  Chateau. 

One  morning  Lord came  home  laughing  till  he  could 

laugh  no  longer.  "  What  do  you  think  the  King  has  done 
now  ?  "  he  asked.  I  professed  my  inability  to  guess.  '•'  About 
an  hour  ago,  he  and  Queen  Victoria  were  walking  in  the  gar- 
den, when,  with  true  French  politeness,  he  offered  her  a 
peach.  The  Queen  seemed  rather  embarrassed  how  to  skin 
it,  when  Louis-Philippe  took  a  large  clasp-knife  from  his 
pocket.  '  When  a  man  has  been  a  poor  devil  like  myself, 
obliged  to  live  upon  forty  sous  a  day,  he  always  carries  a 
knife.  I  might  have  dispensed  with  it  for  the  last  few  years; 
still,  I  do  not  wish  to  lose  the  habit — one  does  not  know  what 
may  happen,'  he  said.  Of  course,  the  tears  stood  in  the  Queen's 
eyes.  He  really  ought  to  know  better  than  to  obtrude  his 
money  worries  upon  every  one." 

I  must  confess  that  I  was  not  as  much  surprised  as  my 
interlocutor,  who,  however,  had  known  Louis-Philippe  much 
longer  than  I.  Not  his  worst  enemies  could  have  accused  the 
son  of  Philippe  Egalite  of  being  a  coward :  the  bulletins  of 
Valmy,  Jemmappes,  and  Neerwinden  would  have  proved  the 
contrary.  But  the  contempt  of  physical  danger  on  the  battle- 
field does  not  necessarily  constitute  heroism  in  the  most  ele- 
vated sense  of  the  term,  although  the  world  in  general  fre- 
quently accepts  it  as  such.  A  man  can  die  but  once,  and  the 
semi-positivism,  semi-Voltaireanism  of  Louis-Philippe  had 
undoubtedly  steeled  him  against  the  fear  of  death.  His  re- 
ligion, throughout  life,  was  not  even  skin-deep ;  and  when 


LOUIS-PHILIPPE'S  RELIGION.  197 

he  accepted  the  last  rites  of  the  Church  on  his  death-bed,  he 
only  did  so  in  deference  to  his  wife.  "  Ma  femme,  es-tu  con- 
tente  de  moi  ?  "  were  his  words  the  moment  the  priests  were 
gone. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  too  good  a  husband  to  grieve  his 
wife,  Avho  was  deeply  religions,  by  any  needless  display  of 
unbelief.  He  always  endeavoured,  as  far  as  possible,  to  find 
an  excuse  for  staying  away  from  church.  He,  as  well  as  the 
female  members  of  his  family,  were  very  fond  of  music; 
and  Adam,  the  composer,  was  frequently  invited  to  come  and 
play  for  them  m  the  private  apartments.  In  fact,  after  his 
abdication,  he  seriously  intended  to  write,  in  conjunction 
with  Scribe,  the  libretto  of  an  opera  on  an  English  historical 
subject,  the  music  of  which  should  be  composed  by  Halevy. 
The  composer  of  "  La  Juive  "  and  the  author  of  "  Les  Huge- 
nots  "  came  over  once  to  consult  with  the  King,  whose  death, 
a  few  months  later,  put  an  end  to  the  scheme. 

On  the  occasion  of  Adam's  visits  the  princesses  worked 
at  their  embroidery,  while  the  King  often  stood  by  the  side 
of  the  performer.  Just  about  that  period  the  chamber  organ 
was  introduced,  and,  on  the  recommendation  of  Adam,  one 
was  ordered  for  the  Tuileries.  The  first  time  Louis-Philippe 
heard  it  played  he  was  delighted :  "  This  will  be  a  distinct 
gain  to  our  rural  congregations,"  he  said.  "There  must  be 
a  great  many  people  who,  like  myself,  stay  away  from  church 
on  account  of  their  objection  to  that  horrible  instrument,  the 
serpent.     Is  it  not  so,  my  wife?" 

The  ideal  purpose  of  life,  if  ever  he  possessed  it,  had  been 
crushed  out  of  him — first,  by  his  governess,  Madame  de  Gen- 
lis ;  secondly,  by  the  dire  poverty  he  suffered  during  his  ex- 
ile :  and,  notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  said  to  the  con- 
trary, France  wanted  at  that  moment  an  ideal  ruler,  not  the 
rational  father  of  a  large  family  who  looked  upon  his  mon- 
archy as  a  suitable  means  of  providing  for  them.  He  was  an 
usurper  without  the  daring,  the  grandeur,  the  lawlessness  of 
the  usurper.  The  lesson  of  Napoleon  I.'s  method  had  been 
thrown  away  upon  him,  as  the  lesson  of  Napoleon  III.'s  has 
been  thrown  away  upon  his  grandson.  When  I  said  France, 
I  made  a  mistake, — I  should  have  said  Paris ;  for  since  1789 
there  was  no  longer  a  King  of  France,  there  was  only  a  King 
of  Paris.  Such  a  thing  as  a  Manchester  movement,  as  a 
Manchester  school  of  politics,  would  have  been  and  is  stiU 
an  impossibility  in  France. 


198  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

And,  unfortunately,  Paris,  which  had  applauded  the  glo- 
rious mise-en-schie  of  the  First  Empire,  which  had  even 
looked  on  approvingly  at  some  of  the  pomp  and  state  of 
Louis  XVIII.  and  Charles  X.,  jeered  at  Louis-Philippe  and 
his  court  with  its  ridiculous  gatherings  of  tailors,  drapers, 
and  bootmakers,  "  ces  gardes  nationaux  d'un  pays  ou  il  n'y  a 
plus  rien  de  national  k  garder,"  and  their  pretentious  spouses 
"  qui,"  according  to  the  Duchesse  de  la  Tremoille,  "  ont  plus 
de  chemises  que  nos  aieules  avaient  des  robes."  *  She  and 
the  Princesse  Bagration  were  the  only  female  representa- 
tives of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  who  attended  these  gath- 
erings ;  for  the  Countess  Le  Hon,  of  whom  I  may  have  occa- 
sion to  speak  again,  and  who  was  the  only  other  woman  at 
these  receptions  that  could  lay  claim  to  any  distinction,  was 
by  no  means  an  aristocrat.  And  be  it  remembered  that  in 
those  days  ridicule  had  still  the  power  to  kill. 

Nor  was  the  weapon  wielded  exclusively  by  the  aris- 
tocracy ;  the  lower  classes  could  be  just  as  satirical  against 
the  new  court  element.  I  was  in  the  Tuileries  gardens  on 
that  first  Sunday  in  June,  1837,  when  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans 
made  her  entree  into  Paris.  The  weather  was  magnificent, 
and  the  set  scene — as  distinguished  from  some  of  the  prop- 
erties, to  use  a  theatrical  expression — in  keeping  with  the 
weather.  The  crowd  itself  was  a  pleasure  to  look  at,  as  it 
stood  in  serried  masses  behind  the  National  Guards  and  the 
regular  infantry  lining  the  route  of  the  procession  from  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe  to  the  entrance  of  the  Chateau.  All  at 
once  an  outrider  passes,  covered  with  dust,  and  the  crowd 
presses  forward  to  get  a  better  view.  A  woman  of  the  people, 
in  her  nice  white  cap,  comes  into  somewhat  violent  contact 
with  an  elegantly  dressed  elderly  lady,  accompanied  by  her 
daughter.  The  woman,  instead  of  apologizing,  says  aloud 
that  she  wi.shes  to  see  the  princess :  "  You  will  have  the  op- 
portunity of  seeing  her  at  court,  mesdames,"  she  adds.  The 
elegant  lady  vouchsafes  no  reply,  but  turns  to  her  daughter  : 
"  The  good  woman,"  says  the  latter,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders, "  is  evidently  not  aware  that  she  has  got  a  much  greater 

*  She  had  unconsciously  borrowed  the  words  from  the  Duchesse  de  Coislin, 
who,  under  similar  circumstances  a  few  years  before,  said  to  Madame  de  Cha- 
teaubriand, "  Cela  sent  la  parvenue ;  iious  autres,  femmes  de  la  cour,  nous 
n'avions  que  deux  chemises  ;  on  les  renouvelait  quand  dies  ^taient  us^es  ;  nous 
^tions  vetues  de  robes  de  soie  et  nous  n'avions  pas  Pair  de  griscttes  commo  ces 
demoiselles  de  maintenant" — Editor. 


A  PRACTICAL  JOKE  OP  PRllS^CE  DE  JOIXVILLE.    199 

ciiance  of  going  to  that  court  than  we  have.  She  has  only 
got  to  marry  some  grocer  or  other  tradesman,  and  she  will  be 
considered  a  grande  dame  at  once."  Then  the  procession 
passes — first  the  Xational  Guards  on  horseback,  then  the 
King  and  M.  de  Montalivet,  followed  by  Princesse  Helene, 
with  her  young  husband  riding  by  the  side  of  the  carriage. 
So  far  so  good  :  the  first  three  or  four  carriages  were  more 
or  less  handsome,  but  Heaven  .iave  us  from  the  rest,  as  well 
as  from  their  occupants !  They  positively  looked  like  some 
of  those  wardrobe-dealers  so  admirably  described  by  Bal- 
zac. 

When  all  is  over,  the  woman  of  the  people  turns  to  the 
elegant  lady  :  "  I  ask  your  pardon,  madame ;  it  was  really  not 
worth  while  hurting  you.  If  these  are  grandes  dames,  I  pre- 
fer les  jjetites  whom  I  see  in  my  neighbourhood,  the  Rue 
Notre-Dame  de  Lorette.  Comme  elles  etaient  attifees  !  " — 
Anglice,  "  What  a  lot  of  frumps  they  looked  ! " 

In  fact,  Louis-Philippe  and  his  queen  sinned  most  griev- 
ously by  overlooking  the  craving  of  the  Parisians  for  pomp 
and  display.  Xo  one  was  better  aware  of  this  than  his  chil- 
dren, notably  the  Due  d'Orleans,  Princess  Clementine,*  and 
the  Due  de  Nemours.  They  called  him  familiarly  "  le  pere." 
"  II  est  trop  pere,"  said  the  princess  in  private ;  "  il  fait  con- 
currence au  Pere  Eternel."  She  was  a  very  clever  girl — per- 
haps a  great  deal  cleverer  than  any  of  her  brothers,  the  Solon 
of  the  family,  the  Due  de  Xemours,  included — but  very  fond 
of  mischief  and  practical  joking.  She  found  her  match, 
though,  in  her  brother,  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  the  son  of 
Louis-Philippe  of  whom  France  heard  most  and  saw  least, 
for  he  was  a  sailor.  One  day,  his  sister  asked  him  to  bring 
her  a  complete  dress  of  a  Red-Skin  chieftain's  wife.  His 
absence  was  shorter  than  usual,  and,  a  few  days  before  his 
return,  he  told  her  in  a  letter  that  he  had  the  costume  she 

*  The  mother  of  Prince  Ferdinand  of  Saxe-Coburg,  the  present  ruler  of  Bul- 

Earia.  She  was  a  particular  favourite  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  Louis-Philippe 
imself  not  only  considered  her  the  cleverest  of  his  three  dau^^hters,  but  the 
most  likely  successor  to  his  sister  Adelaide,  as  his  private  adviser.  That  the 
estimate  of  her  abilities  was  by  no  means  exaggerated,  subsequent  events  have 
proved.  The  last  time  I  saw  the  princess  wsis  at  the  garden  party  at  Sheen- 
House,  on  the  occasion  of  the  silver  wedding  of  the  Count  and  Countess  de 
Paris.  I  did  not  remember  her  for  the  moment,  for  a  score  of  years  had  made 
a  difference.  I  asked  an  Austrian  attache  who  she  was.  The  answer  came 
pat.,  "  Alexander  III.'s  nightmare,  Francis-Joseph's  bogy,  and  Bismarck's  sleep- 
ing draught ;  one  of  the  three  clever  women  in  Europe  ;  Bulgaria's  mother." — 
Editob, 


200  AN  ENGLISHxMAN  IX  PARIS. 

wanted.  "  Here,  Clementine,  this  is  for  you,"  lie  said,  at  his 
arrival,  putting  a  string  of  glass  beads  on  the  table. 

"Very  pretty,"  said  Clementine,  "but  you  promised  me 
a  complete  dress." 

"  This  is  the  complete  dress.  I  never  saw  them  wear  any 
other." 

I  did  not  see  the  Prince  de  Joinville  very  often,  perhaps 
two  or  three  times  in  all ;  once  on  the  occasion  of  his  mar- 
riage with  Princess  Fran9oise  de  Bourbon,  the  daughter  of 
Dom  Pedro  I.  of  Brazil,  and  sister  of  the  present  emperor, 
when  the  prince  brought  his  young  bride  to  Paris.  lie  was 
a  clever  draughtsman  and  capital  caricaturist ;  but  if  the 
first  of  these  talents  proved  an  unfailing  source  of  delight  to 
his  parents,  the  second  frequently  inspired  them  with  terror, 
especially  his  father,  who  never  knew  which  of  his  ministers 
might  become  the  next  butt  for  his  third  son's  pencil.  I 
have  seen  innumerable  sketches,  ostensibly  done  to  delight 
his  young  wife  and  brothers,  which,  had  they  been  published, 
would  have  been  much  more  telling  against  his  father's  pic- 
torial satirists  than  anything  they  produced  against  the  sov- 
ereign. For  in  those  days,  whatever  wisdom  or  caution  they 
may  have  learnt  afterwards,  the  sons  of  Louis-Philippe  were 
by  no  means  disposed  to  sit  down  tamely  under  the  insults 
levelled  at  the  head  of  their  house.  In  fact,  nearly  the  whole 
of  Louis-Philippe's  children  had  graphic  talents  of  no  mean 
order.  The  trait  came  to  them  from  their  mother,  who  was 
a  very  successful  pupil  of  Angelica  Kauffman.  Princesse 
Marie,  who  died  so  young,  executed  a  statue  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc,  which  was  considered  by  competent  judges,  not  at  all 
likely  to  be  influenced  by  the  fact  of  the  artist's  birth,  a  very 
creditable  piece  of  work  indeed.  I  never  saw  it,  so  I  cannot 
say,  but  I  have  seen  some  miniatures  by  the  Due  de  Nemours, 
which  might  fairly  rank  with  performances  by  the  best  mas- 
ters of  that  art,  short  of  genius. 

It  is  a  curious,  but  nevertheless  admitted  fact  that  the 
world  has  never  done  justice  to  the  second  son  of  Louis- 
Philippe.  He  was  not  half  as  great  a  favourite  with  the 
Parisians  as  his  elder  brother,  although  in  virtue  of  his  re- 
markable likeness  to  Henri  IV.,  whom  the  Parisians  still 
worship — probably  because  he  is  dead, — he  ought  to  have 
commanded  their  sympathies.  This  lukewarmness  towards 
the  Due  de  Nemours  has  generally  been  ascribed  by  the  par- 
tisans of  the  Orleanist  dynasty  to  his  somewhat  reticent  disr 


THE   DUG  DE  NEMOURS.  201 

position,  which  by  many  people  was  mistaken  for  liauteiir. 
I  rather  fancy  it  was  because  he  was  suspected  of  being  his 
father's  adviser,  and,  what  was  worse,  his  father's  adviser  in 
a  reactionary  sense.  He  was  accused  of  being  an  anti-par- 
liamentarian, and  he  never  took  the  trouble  to  refute  the 
charge,  probably  because  he  was  too  honest  to  tell  a  lie.*  I 
met  the  Due  de  Nemours  for  the  first  time  in  the  studio  of 
a  painter,  Eugene  Lami,  just  as  I  met  his  elder  brother  in 
that  of  Decamps.  In  fact,  all  these  young  princes  were  sin- 
cere admirers  and  patrons  of  art,  and,  if  they  had  had  their 
will,  the  soirees  at  the  Tuileries  would  Ijave  been  graced 
by  the  presence  of  artists  more  frequently  than  they  were ; 
but,  preposterous  and  scarcely  credible  as  it  may  seem,  the 
bourgeoisie  looked  upon  this  familiar  intercourse  of  the 
king's  sons  with  artists,  literary  men,  and  the  like,  as  so  much 
condescension,  if  not  worse,  of  which  they,  the  bourgeoisie, 
would  not  be  guilty  if  they  could  help  it.  It  behoves  me, 
however,  to  be  careful  in  this  instance,  for  the  English 
aristocracy  at  home  was  not  much  more  liberal  in  those 
days. 

The  first  thing  that  struck  one  in  the  Due  de  Nemours 
was  the  vast  extent  of  his  general  information  and  the  mar- 
vellous power  of  memory.  Eugene  Lami  had  just  returned 
from  London,  and,  in  the  exercise  of  his  profession,  had 
come  in  contact  with  some  members  of  the  oldest  families. 
The  mere  mention  of  the  name  sufficed  as  the  introduction 
to  the  general  and  anecdotal  history  of  such  a  family,  and  I 
doubt  whether  the  best  official  at  Herald's  College  could 
have  dissected  a  pedigree  as  did  the  Due  de  Nemours.  Eu- 
gene Lami  was  at  that  time  engaged  upon  designing  some 
new  uniforms  for  the  army,  many  of  which  disappeared  only 
after  the  war  of  1870.  He  lived  in  the  Eue  des  Marais,  the 
greater  part  of  which  was  subsequently  demolished  to  make 
room  for  the  Boulevard  de  Magenta,  and  in  the  same  house 
with  two  men  whose  names  have  become  immortal,  Honore 
de  Balzac  and  Paul  Delaroche.  I  have  already  spoken  of 
both,  but  I  did  not  mention  the  incident  that  led  to  the 

*  There  was  a  similar  divergence  of  dynastic  opinion  during  the  Second 
Empire  between  the  sovereign  and  tliose  placed  very  near  him  on  the  throne. 
When  Alphonse  Daudet  came  to  Paris  to  make  a  name  in  literature,  the  Due 
de  Momy  oifered  him  a  position  as  secretary.  "  Before  I  accept  it,  monsieur  lo 
due,  1  had  better  tell  you  that  I  am  a  Legitimist,"  replied  the  future  novelist. 
"  Don't  let  that  trouble-you,"  laughed  De  Morny  ;  "  so  am  1  to  a  certain  extent, 
and  the  Empress  is  even  more  of  a  Legitimist  tfian  I  am." — Editor. 


202  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

painter's  acquaintance  with  the  novelist,  an  incident  so  ut- 
terly fanciful  that  the  boldest  farce- writer  would  think  twice 
before  utilizing  it  in  a  play.  It  was  told  to  me  by  Lami  him- 
self. One  morning,  as  he  and  Paul  Delaroche  were  working, 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  stout  individual,  dressed 
in  a  kind  of  monastic  garb,  appeared  on  the  threshold.  Dela- 
roche remembered  that  he  had  met  him  on  the  staircase,  but 
neither  knew  who  he  was,  albeit  that  Balzac's  fame  was  not 
altogether  unknown  to  them.  "  Gentlemen,"  said  the  vis- 
itor, "  I  am  Honore  Balzac,  a  neighbour  and  a  confrere  to 
boot.  My  chattel^  are  about  to  be  seized,  and  I  would  ask 
you  to  save  a  remnant  of  my  library." 

Of  course,  the  request  was  granted.  The  books  were 
stowed  away  behind  the  pictures;  and,  after  that,  Balzac 
often  dropped  in  to  have  a  chat  with  them,  but  neither  Dela- 
roche nor  Lami,  the  latter  least  of  all,  ev^er  conceived  a  sin- 
cere liking  for  the  great  novelist.  Their  characters  were 
altogether  dissimilar.  I  have  seen  a  good  many  men  whose 
names  have  become  household  words  among  the  refined,  the 
educated,  and  the  art-loving  all  the  world  over ;  I  have  seen 
them  at  the  commencement,  in  the  middle,  and  at  the  zenith 
of  their  career:  I  have  seen  none  more  indifferent  to  the 
material  benefits  of  their  art  than  Eugene  Lami  and  Paul 
Delaroche,  not  even  Eugene  Delacroix  and  Decamps.  Balzac 
was  the  very  reverse.  To  make  a  fortune  was  the  sole  am- 
bition of  his  life. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Louis-Philippe's  sons.  I 
have  said  that  the  Due  de  Nemours  was  essentially  the  grand 
seigneur  of  the  family ;  truth  compels  me  to  add,  however, 
that  there  was  a  certain  want  of  pliability  about  him  which 
his  social  inferiors  could  not  have  relished.  It  was  Henri 
IV.  minus  the  bonhomie,  also  perhaps  minus  that  indiscrimi- 
nate galauterie  which  endeared  Kavaillac's  victim  to  all 
classes,  even  when  he  was  no  longer  young.  In  the  days  of 
which  I  am  treating  just  now,  the  Due  de  Nemours  was  very 
young.  As  for  his  courage,  it  was  simply  above  suspicion ; 
albeit  that  it  was  called  in  question  after  the  revolution  of 
'48,  to  his  father's  intense  sorrow.  No  after-dinner  encomi- 
um was  ever  as  absolutely  true  as  that  of  Sir  Robert  Peel  on 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  last  King  of  France,  when  he 
described  them  as  respectively  brave  and  chaste.  Neverthe- 
less, had  the  Due  de  Nemours  and  his  brothers  been  a  thou- 
sand times  as  brave  as  they  were,  party  spirit,  than  which 


THE  DUG  DE  NEMOURS'  BRAVERY.  £03 

there  is  nothing  more  contemptible  in  France,  would  have 
found  the  opportunity  of  denying  that  bravery. 

If  these  notes  are  ever  published,  Englishmen  will  smile 
at  what  I  am  about  to  write  now,  unless  their  disgust  takes 
another  form  of  expression.  The  exploits  of  the  Due  d'Au- 
male  in  Algeria  are  quoted  by  independent  military  authori- 
ties as  so  many  separate  deeds  of  signal  heroism.  They 
belong  to  history,  and  not  a  single  historian  has  endeavoured 
to  impair  their  value.  Will  it  be  believed  that  the  Opposi- 
tion journals  of  those  days  spoke  of  them  with  ill-disguised 
contempt  as  mere  skirmishes  with  a  lot  of  semi-savages? 
And,  during  the  Second  Eepublic,  many  of  these  papers  re- 
turned to  the  charge  because  the  Due  d'Aumale,  being  the 
constitutionally-minded  son  of  a  constitutionally-minded 
king,  resigned  tli6  command  of  his  army  instead  of  bringing 
it  to  France  to  coerce  a  nation  into  retaining  a  ruler  whom, 
ostensibly  at  least,  she  had  voluntarily  accepted,  and  whom, 
therefore,  she  was  as  free  to  reject. 

In  connection  with  these  Algerian  campaigns  of  the  Duo 
d'Aumale,  I  had  a  story  told  to  me  by  his  brother,  De  Mont- 
pensier,  which  becomes  particularly  interesting  nowadays, 
when  spiritualism  or  spiritism  is  so  much  discussed.  He  had 
it  from  two  unimpeachable  sources,  namely,  from  his  brother 
D'Aumale  and  from  General  Cousin-Montauban,  afterwards 
Comte  de  Palikao,  the  same  who  was  so  terribly  afraid,  after 
the  expedition  in  China,  that  the  emperor  would  create  him 
Comte  de  Pekin,  and  Avho  sent  an  aide-de-camp  in  advance 
to  beg  the  sovereign  not  to  do  so.* 

It  was  to  General  Montauban  that  Abdel-Kader  surren- 
dered after  the  battles  of  Isly  and  Djemma-Gazhouat.  It 
was  in  the  latter  engagement  that  a  Captain  de  Gereaiix  fell, 
and  when  the  news  of  his  death  reached  his  family  they 
seemed  almost  prepared  for  it.  It  transpired  that,  on  the 
very  day  of  the  engagement,  and  at  the  very  hour  in  which 
Captain  de  Gereaux  was  struck  down,  his  sister,  a  young  and 
handsome  but  very  impressionable  girl,  started  all  of  a  sudden 
from  her  chair,  exclaiming  that  she  had  seen  her  brother, 
surrounded  by  Arabs,  who  were  felling  him  to  the  ground. 
Then  she  dropped  to  the  floor  in  a  dead  swoon. 

A  few  years  elapsed,  when  General  Montauban,  who  had 

*  In  order  to  understand  this  dread  on  Montauban's  part,  the  English  reader 
should  be  told  that  the  term^^'^'w  is  the  contemptuous  nickname  for  the  civil- 
ian, with  the  French  soldier. — Editob. 


204  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

become  the  military  Governor  of  the  province  of  Oran,  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  the  De  Gereaux  family,  requesting  him 
to  make  some  further  inquiries  respecting  the  particulars  of 
the  captain's  death.  The  letter  was  written  at  the  urgent 
prayer  of  Mdlle.  de  Gereaux,  who  had  never  ceased  to  think 
and  speak  of  her  brother,  and  who,  on  one  occasion,  a  month 
or  so  before  the  despatch  of  the  petition,  had  risen  again 
from  her  chair,  though  in  a  more  composed  manner  than 
before,  insisting  that  she  had  once  more  seen  her  brother. 
This  time  he  was  dressed  in  the  native  garb,  he  seemed  very 
poor,  and  was  delving  the  soil.  These  visions  recurred  at 
frequent  intervals,  to  the  intense  distress  of  the  family,  who 
could  not  but  ascribe  them  to  the  overstrung  imagination  of 
Mdlle.  de  Gereaux.  A  little  while  after,  she  maintained 
having  seen  her  brother  in  a  white  robe  and  turban,  and  in- 
toning hymns  that  sounded  to  her  like  Arabic.  She  implored 
her  parents  to  institute  inquiries,  and  General  Montauban 
was  communicated  with  to  that  effect.  He  did  all  he  could ; 
the  country  was  at  peace,  and,  after  a  few  months,  tidings 
came  that  there  was  a  Frenchman  held  prisoner  in  one  of 
the  villages  on  the  Morocco  frontier,  who  for  the  last  two  or 
three  years  had  entirely  lost  his  reason,  but  that,  previous  to 
that  calamity,  he  had  been  converted  to  Islamism.  His 
mental  derangement  being  altogether  harmless,  he  was  an 
attendant  at  the  Mosque.  As  a  matter  of  course,  the  infor- 
mation had  been  greatly  embellished  in  having  passed  through 
so  many  channels,  nor  was  it  of  so  definite  a  character  as  I 
have  noted  it  down,  but  that  was  the  gist  of  it. 

Meanwhile,  Montauban  had  been  transferred  to  another 
command,  and  for  a  twelvemonth  after  his  successor's  arrival 
the  inquiry  was  allowed  to  fall  in  abeyance.  When  it  was 
finally  resumed,  the  French  prisoner  had  died,  but,  from  a 
document  written  in  his  native  language  found  upon  him  and 
brought  to  Oran,  there  remained  little  doubt  that  he  was 
Captain  de  Gereaux. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  the  Due  d'Aumale,  who,  curi- 
ously enough,  exercised  a  greater  influence  on  the  outside 
world  in  general  than  any  of  his  other  brethren — an  influence 
due  probably  to  his  enormous  wealth  rather  than  to  his  per- 
sonal qualities,  though  the  latter  may,  to  some  people,  have 
seemed  remarkable.  I  met  him  but  seldom  during  his 
father's  lifetime.  He  was  the  beau-ideal  of  the  preux  cheva- 
lier, according  to  the  French  notion  of  the  modern  Bayard 


THE  DUG  D'ORLfiANS.  205 

— that  is,  handsome,  brave  to  a  fault,  irresistibly  fascinating 
with  women,  good-natured  in  his  way,  and,  above  all,  very 
witty.  It  was  he  who,  after  the  confiscation  of  the  d'Orleans' 
property  by  Napoleon  III.,  replied  to  the  French  Ambassador 
at  Turin,  who  inquired  after  his  health,  "  I  am  all  right ; 
health  is  one  of  the  things  that  cannot  be  confiscated." 
Nevertheless,  upon  closer  acquaintance,  I  failed  to  see  the 
justifying  cause  for  the  preference  manifested  by  public 
opinion,  and,  upon  more  minute  inquiry,  I  found  that  a 
great  many  people  shared  my  views.  I  am  at  this  moment 
convinced  that,  but  for  his  having  been  the  heir  of  that  ill- 
fated  Prince  de  Conde,  and  consequently  the  real  defender 
in  the  various  suits  resulting  from  the  assassination  of  that 
prince  by  Madame  de  Feucheres,  he  would  have  been  in  no 
way  distinguished  socially  from  the  rest  of  the  D'Orleans. 

The  popularity  of  his  eldest  brother,  the  Due  d'Orleans, 
was,  on  the  contrary,  due  directly  to  the  man  himself.  As 
far  as  one  can  judge  of  him,  he  was  the  reverse  of  Charles  II., 
in  that  he  never  said  a  wise  thing  and  never  did  a  foolish 
one.  He  was  probably  not  half  so  clever  as  his  father,  nor, 
brave  as  he  may  have  been,  would  he  have  ever  made  so  dash- 
ing a  soldier  as  his  brother  D'Aumale,  or  so  rollicking  a  sailor 
as  his  brother  De  Joinville.  He  did  not  pretend  to  the  wis- 
dom of  his  brother  De  Nemours,  nor  to  the  mystic  tendencies 
of  his  youngest  sister,  nor  to  the  sprightly  wit  of  Princesse 
Clementine,  and  yet  withal  he  understood  the  French  nation 
better  than  any  of  them.  Even  his  prenuptial  escapades,  se- 
crets to  no  one,  were  those  of  the  grand  seigneur,  though  by 
no  means  affichees ;  they  endeared  him  to  the  majority  of  the 
people.  "  Chacun  colon-ise  k  sa  fa9on,"  was  the  lenient  ver- 
dict on  his  admiration  for  Jenny  Colon,  at  a  moment  when 
colonization  in  Algeria  was  the  topic  of  the  day.  On  the 
whole  he  liked  artists  better,  perhaps,  than  art  itself,  yet  it 
did  not  prevent  him  from  buying  masterpieces  as  far  as  his 
means  would  allow  him.  Though  still  young,  in  the  latter 
end  of  the  thirties,  I  was  already  a  frequent  visitor  to  the 
studios  of  the  great  French  painters,  and  it  was  in  that  of 
Decamps'  that  I  became  alive  to  his  character  for  the  first 
time.  I  was  talking  to  the  great  painter  when  the  duke  came 
in.  We  had  met  before,  and  shook  hands,  as  he  had  been 
taught  to  do  by  his  father  when  he  met  with  an  Englishman. 
But  I  could  not  make  out  why  he  was  carrying  a  pair  of  trou- 
sers over  his  arm.     After  we  had  been  chatting  for  about  ten 


206  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

minutes,  I  wondering  all  the  while  what  he  was  going  to  do 
with  the  nether  garment,  he  caught  one  of  my  side  glances, 
and  burst  out  laughing.  "  I  forgot,"  he  said ;  *'  here.  Decamps, 
here  are  your  breeches."  Then  he  turned  to  me  to  explain. 
''  I  always  bring  them  up  with  me  when  I  come  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  concierge  is  very  old,  and  it  saves  her  trudging  up 
four  flights  of  stairs."  The  fact  was,  that  the  concierge,  be- 
fore she  knew  who  he  was,  had  once  asked  him  to  take  up 
the  painter's  clothes  and  boots.  From  that  day  forth  he 
never  failed  to  ask  for  them  when  passing  her  lodge. 

I  can  but  repeat,  the  Due  d'Orleans  was  one  of  the  most 
charming  men  I  have  known.  I  always  couple  him  in  my 
mind  with  Benjamin  Disraeli,  and  Alexandre  Dumas  the 
elder.  I  knew  the  English  statesman  almost  as  well  during 
part  of  my  life  as  the  French  novelist.  Though  intellectu- 
ally wide  apart  from  them,  the  duke  had  one,  if  not  two  traits 
in  common  with  both ;  his  utter  contempt  for  money  affairs 
and  the  personal  charm  he  wielded.  I  doubt  whether  this 
personal  charm  in  the  other  two  men  was  due  to  their  intel- 
lectual atta,inments ;  with  the  Due  d'Orleans  it  was  certainly 
not  the  case.  He  rarely,  if  ever,  said  anything  worth  remem- 
bering; in  fact,  he  frankly  acknowledged  his  very  modest 
scholarship,  and  his  inability  either  to  remember  the  epi- 
grams of  others  or  to  condense  his  thoughts  into  one  of  his 
own.  "  I  should  not  like  to  admit  as  much  to  my  father, 
who,  it  appears,  is  a  very  fine  Greek  and  Latin  scholar,"  he 
said — "  that  is,  if  I  am  to  believe  my  brothers,  De  Nemours 
and  D'Aumale,  who  ought  to  know ;  for,  notwithstanding  the 
prizes  they  took  at  college,  I  believe  they  are  very  clever.  Ah, 
you  may  well  look  surprised  at  my  saying,  '  notwithstanding 
the  prizes  they  took,'  because  I  took  ever  so  many,  although, 
for  the  life  of  me,  I  could  not  construe  a  Greek  sentence,  and 
scarcely  a  Latin  one.  I  have  paid  very  handsomely,  however, 
for  my  ignorance."  And  then  he  told  us  an  amusing  story 
of  his  having  had  to  invent  a  secretaryship  to  the  duchess  for 
an  old  schoolfellow.  "  You  see,  he  came  upon  me  unawares 
with  a  slip  of  paper  I  had  written  him  while  at  college,  ask- 
ing him  to  explain  to  me  a  Greek  ipassage.  There  was  no 
denying  it,  I  had  signed  it.  What  is  worse  still,  he  is  sup- 
posed to  translate  and  to  reply  to  the  duchess's  German  cor- 
respondence, and,  when  I  gave  him  the  appointment,  he  did 
not  know  a  single  word  of  Schiller's  language,  so  I  had  to  pay 
a  German  tutor  and  him  too." 


HIS  IXDIFFERENX'E   WITH  REGARD  TO   MONEY.    207 

I  have  said  that  the  Due  d'0rl6ans  was  absolutely  indiffer- 
ent with  regard  to  money,  but  he  would  not  be  fleeced  with 
impunity.  What  he  disliked  more  than  anything  else,  was 
the  greed  of  the  shop-keeping  bourgeois.  One  day,  while 
travelling  in  Lorraine,  he  stopped  at  the  posting-house  to 
have  his  breakfast,  consisting  of  a  couple  of  eggs,  a  few 
slices  of  bread  and  butter,  and  a  cup  of  coffee.  Just  before 
proceeding  on  his  journey,  his  valet  came  to  tell  him  that 
mine  host  wanted  to  charge  him  two  hundred  francs  for  the 
repast.  The  duke  merely  sent  for  the  mayor,  handed  him  a 
thousand-franc  note,  gave  him  the  particulars  of  his  bill  of 
fare,  told  him  to  pay  the  landlord  according  to  the  tariff,  and 
to  distribute  the  remainder  of  the  money  among  the  poor. 
It  is  more  than  probable  that  mine  host  was  among  the  first, 
in  '48,  to  hail  the  republic  :  princes  and  kings,  according  to 
him,  were  made  to  be  fleeced  ;  if  they  objected,  what  was  the 
good  of  having  a  monarchy  ? 

The  popular  idol  in  France  must  distribute  largesse,  and 
distribute  it  individually,  or  be  profitable  in  some  other  way. 
Greed,  personal  interest,  underlies  most  of  the  political  strife 
in  France.  During  one  of  the  riots,  so  common  in  the  reign 
of  Louis- Philippe,  Mimi-Lepreuil,  a  well-known  clever  pick- 
pocket, was  shouting  with  all  his  might,  "  Vive  Louis- 
Philippe  !  a  bas  la  Eepublique !  "  Asa  rule,  gentlemen  of  his 
profession  are  found  on  the  plebeian  side,  and  one  of  the 
superintendents  of  police  on  duty,  who  had  closely  watched 
him,  inquired  into  the  reason  of  his  apostasy.  "  I  am  sick  of 
your  Eepublicans,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  come  here  morning 
after  morning  " — it  happened  on  the  Place  de  la  Bourse, — 
"  and  dip  my  hands  into  a  score  of  pockets  without  finding  a 
red  cent.  During  the  Revolution  of  July,  at  the  funeral  of 
General  Laraarque,  I  did  not  make  my  expenses.  Give  me  a 
royal  procession  to  make  money."    These  were  his  politics. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  what  the  Due  d'Orleans  would 
have  done,  had  he  lived  to  ascend  the  throne.  One  thing  is 
certain,  however,  that  on  the  day  of  his  death,  genuine  tears 
stood  in  the  eyes  of  all  classes,  except  the  Legitimists.  As  I 
have  already  said,  they  ascribed  the  fatal  accident  to  God's 
vengeance  for  the  usurpation  of  his  father.  "  If  this  be  the 
case,"  said  an  irreverent  but  witty  journalist,  "  it  argues  but 
very  little  providence  on  the  part  of  yotir  Providence^  for 
now  He  will  have  to  keep  the  peace  between  the  Duo  de  Berri, 
the  Due  de  Reichstadt,  and  the  Due  d'Orleans." 


208  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Revolution  of '48 — The  beginning'  of  it — The  National  Guards  in  all  their 

flory — The  Caf^  Gregoire  on  the  Place  du  Caire — The  price  of  a  good 
reakfaat  in  '48 — The  palmy  days  of  the  Cuisine  Bourgeoise — The  excite- 
ment on  the  Boulevards  on  Sunday,  February  20th,  '48 — The  theatres — A 
ball  at  Poirson's,  the  erstwhile  director  of  the  Gymnase — A  lull  in  the 
storm — Tuesday,  February  22nd — Another  visit  to  the  Caf4  Gregoire — On 
my  way  thither — The  Comedie-FranQaise  closes  its  doors — What  it  means, 
according  to  mv  old  tutor — We  are  waited  upon  by  a  sergeant  and  corporal 
— We  are  no  longer  "messieurs,"  but  "citoyens" — An  eye  to  the  main 
chance — The  patriots  do  a  bit  of  business  in  tricolour  cockades— The  com- 

fany  marches  away — Casualties — "  Le  patriotisme  "  means  the  difterence 
etween  the  louis  d'or  and  the  ecu  of  three  francs — The  company  bivouacs 
on  the  Boulevard  Saint-Martin — A  tyrant's  victim  "  malgre  luV — Wednes- 
day, February  23rd — The  Cafe  Gregoire  once  more — The  National  Guards 
en  neglige — A  novel  mode  of  settling  accounts — The  National  Guards  for- 
tify the  inner  man — A  bivouac  on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple — A  camp 
scene  from  an  opera — I  leave — My  companion's  account — 'ihe  National 
Guards  protect  the  regulars — The  author  of  these  notes  goes  to  the  theatre 
— The  Gymnase  and  the  Varietes  on  the  eve  of  the  Revolution — Bouffe  and. 
Ddjazet— Thursday,  February  24th.  '48— The  Boulevards  at  9.30  a.  m.— No 
milk — The  Revolutionaries  do  witnout  it — The  Place  du  Carrousel — The 
sovereign  people  fire  from  the  roofs  on  the  troops — The  troops  do  not  dis- 
lodge them — The  King  reviews  the  troops — The  apparent  inactivity  of 
Louis-Philippe's  sons — A  theory  about  the  difference  m  bloodshed — One  of 
the  three  ugliest  men  in  France  comes  to  see  the  King — Seditious  cries — 
The  King  abdicates — Chaos — The  sacking  of  the  Tuileries — Receptions  and 
feasting  in  the  Galerie  de  Diane — "  Du  caf6  pour  nous,  des  cigarettes  pour 
les  dames  " — The  dresses  of  the  princesses — The  bourgeois  fea.st  the  gamins 
who  guard  the  barricades— The  Republic  proclaimed — The  riff-raff  insist 
upon  illuminations — An  actor  promoted  to  the  Governorship  of  the  Hotel 
de  Ville — Some  members  of  the  "  provisional  Government "  at  work — M^ry 
on  Lamartine — Why  the  latter  proclaimed  the  Republic. 

I  WAS  returning  home  earlier  than  usual  on  Saturday 
night,  the  19th  of  February,  '48,  when,  at  the  corner  of  the 
Eue  Lafitte,  I  happened  to  run  against  a  young  Englishman 
who  had  been  established  for  some  years  in  Paris  as  the  rep- 
resentative of  his  father,  a  wealthy  cotton-spinner  in  the 
north.  We  had  frequently  met  before,  and  a  cordial  feeling 
had  sprung  up  between  us,  based  at  first — I  am  bound  to  say 
— on  our  common  contempt  for  the  vanity  of  the  French. 

"  Come  and  breakfast  with  me  to-morrow  morning,"  he 


THE  BEGINNING  OP  THE  REVOLUTION   OF  '48.    209 

said  ;  "  I  fancy  you  will  enjoy  yourself.  We  will  breakfast 
in  my  quarter,  and  you  will  see  the  National  Guards  in  all 
their  glory.  They  will  muster  very  strong  to-morrow,  if  it 
be  fine." 

"  But  why  to-morrow?"  I  replied.  "  I  was  under  the  im- 
pression that  the  idea  of  the  Keformist  banquet  in  the 
Champs-Elysees  had  been  abandoned,  so  there  will  be  no 
occasion  for  them  to  parade?  Besides,  that  would  be  on 
Tuesday  only." 

"  It  has  been  abandoned,  but  if  you  think  that  it  will 
prevent  them  from  turning  out,  you  are  very  much  mis- 
taken ;  at  any  rate,  come  and  listen  to  the  preliminaries." 

I  promised  him  to  come,  but  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
that  I  was  going  to  witness  a  kind  of  mild  prologue  to  a  rev- 
olution 

Next  morning  turned  out  very  fine — balmy  spring  weath- 
er— and  as  I  sauntered  along  the  Boulevards  Montmartre 
and  Poissonniere  to  the  place  of  appointment  the  streets  were 
already  crowded  with  people  in  their  Sunday  clothes.  The 
place  where  I  was  to  meet  my  English  friend  was  situated  in 
the  midst  of  a  busy  quarter,  scarcely  anything  but  ware- 
houses where  they  sold  laces,  and  flowers,  and  silks ;  some- 
thing like  the  neighbourhood  at  the  back  of  Cheapside.  The 
wealthy  tradesmen  of  those  days  did  not  live  in  the  outskirts 
of  Paris,  as  they  did  later  on ;  and  when  my  friend  and  I 
reached  the  principal  cafe  and  restaurant  on  the  Place  du 
Caire — I  think  it  was  called  the  Cafe  Gregoire — there  was 
scarcely  a  table  vacant.  The  habitues  were,  almost  to  a  man, 
National  Guards,  prosperous  business  men,  considerably  more 
anxious,  as  I  found  out  in  a  short  time,  to  play  a  political 
part  than  to  maintain  public  tranquillity.  If  I  remember 
rightly,  one  of  them,  a  chemist  and  druggist,  who  was  pointed 
out  to  me  then,  became  a  deputy  after  the  fall  of  the  Second 
Empire ;  and  I  may  notice  en  passant  that  this  same  spot 
was  the  political  hothouse  which  produced,  afterwards,  Mon- 
sieur Tirard,  who  started  life  as  a  small  manufacturer  of  imi- 
tation jewellery,  and  Avho  rose  to  be  Minister  of  Finances 
under  the  Third  Republic. 

The  breakfast  was  simply  excellent,  the  wine  genuine 
throughout,  the  coffee  and  cognac  all  that  could  be  wished  ; 
and,  when  I  asked  my  friend  to  let  me  look  at  the  bill,  out 
of  simple  curiosity,  or,  rather,  for  the  sake  of  comparing 
prices  with  those  of  the  Cafes  de  Paris  and  Riche,  I  found 


210  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

that  he  had  spent  something  less  than  eleven  francs.  At  the 
Cafe  Riche  it  would  have  been  twenty-five  francs,  and,  at  the 
present  time,  one  would  be  charged  double  that  sum.  These 
were  the  palmy  days  of  the  Cuisine  rran9aise,  or,  to  call  it 
by  another  name,  the  Cuisine  Bourgeoise,  for  which,  a  few 
years  later,  a  stranger  in  Paris  would  have  almost  sought 
in  vain.  Luckily,  however,  for  my  enjoyment  and  digestive 
organs,  I  was  no  stranger  to  Paris  and  to  the  French ;  if  I 
had  been,  both  the  former  would  have  been  spoilt,  the  excite- 
ment of  those  around  me  being  such  as  to  lead  the  alien  to 
believe  that  there  would  be  an  instantaneous  departure  for 
the  Tuileries,  and  a  revival  of  the  bloody  scenes  of  the  first 
revolution.  It  has  been  my  lot,  in  after-years,  to  hear  a  great 
deal  of  political  drivel  in  French  and  English,  but  it  was 
sound  philosophy  compared  to  what  I  heard  that  morning. 
I  have  spoken  before  of  the  Hotel  des  Haricots,  where  men 
like  Hugo,  Balzac,  Beranger,  and  Alfred  de  Musset  chose  to 
be  imprisoned  rather  than  perform  their  duties  as  National 
Guards.  After  that,  I  could  fully  appreciate  their  reluc- 
tance to  be  confounded  with  such  a  set  of  pompous  wind- 
bags. 

It  came  to  nothing  that  day,  but  I  had  become  interested, 
and  made  an  appointment  with  my  friend  for  the  Tuesday, 
unless  something  should  happen  in  the  interval.  Still,  I  did 
not  think  that  the  monarchy  of  July  was  doomed,  though, 
on  returning  to  the  Boulevards,  I  could  not  help  noticing 
that  the  excitement  had  considerably  increased  during  the 
time  I  had  been  at  breakfast.  By  twelve  o'clock  that  night 
I  was  convinced  that  I  had  been  mistaken,  and  that  the 
dynasty  of  the  D'Orleans  had  not  a  week  to  live.  All  the 
theatres  were  still  open,  but  I  had  an  invitation  to  a  ball, 
given  by  Poirson,  the  then  late  director  of  the  Gymnase 
Theatre,  at  his  house  in  the  Faubourg  Poissonniere.  "  !N^ous 
ne  danserons  plus  jamais  sous  Louis-Philippe ! "  was  the 
general  cry,  which  did  not  prevent  the  guests  from  thoroughly 
enjoying  themselves. 

Next  morning,  Monday,  there  seemed  to  be  a  lull  in  the 
storm,  but  on  the  Tuesday  the  signs  of  the  coming  hurricane 
were  plainly  visible  on  the  horizon.  The  Ministry  of  Marine 
was  guarded  by  a  company  of  linesmen,  I  had  some  busi- 
ness in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  which  at  that  time  ended  almost 
abruptly  at  the  Louvre ;  and,  on  my  way  to  the  Cafe  Gre- 
goire,  I  met  patrol  upon  patrol  of  National  Guards  beating 


THE  CAFE  GREGOIliE.  211 

the  "assembly."  I  had  occasion  to  pass  before  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise.  The  ominous  black-lettered  slip  of  yellow  paper, 
with  the  word  Relache,  was  pasted  across  the  evening's  bill. 
That  was  enough  for  me.  I  remembered  the  words  of  my 
old  tutor :  "  When  the  Comedie-rran9aise  shuts  its  doors  in 
perilous  times,  it  is  like  the  battening  down  of  the  hatches 
in  dirty  weather.  There  is  mischief  brewing."  When  I  got 
to  the  Place  du  Caire,  I  was  virtually  in  the  thick  of  it. 
With  the  exception  of  my  friend  and  I,  there  was  not  a  man 
in  mufti.  Even  the  proprietor  had  donned  his  uniform. 
Our  fillet  of  beef  was  brought  to  us  by  a  corporal,  and  our 
coffee  poured  out  by  a  sergeant.  Whether  these  warrior- 
waiters  meant  to  strike  one  blow  for  freedom  and  to  leave 
the  place  to  take  care  of  itself,  we  were  unable  to  make  out ; 
but  their  patrons  were  no  longer  "  messieurs,"  but  had  al- 
ready become  "  citoyens."  I  was  tempted  to  say,  in  the 
words  of  Dupin — the  one  who  was  President  of  the  Cham- 
ber on  the  day  of  the  Coup  d'Etat,  and  who  was  Louis-Phi- 
lippe's personal  friend,  "  Soyous  citoyens,  mais  restons  mes- 
sieurs," but  I  thought  it  better  not.  My  friend  had  given 
up  all  idea  of  attending  to  business.  "  It  will  not  be  of  the 
least  use,"  he  said.  "  If  I  had  ribbons  to  sell  instead  of  cot- 
tons, I  might  make  a  lot  of  money,  though ;  for  I  am  open 
to  wager  that  some  of  our  patriotic  neighbours,  while  they 
are  going  to  bell  the  cat  outside,  have  given  orders  to  their 
workpeople  to  manufacture  tricolour  cockades  and  rosettes 
with  the  magic  E.  F.  (Republique  Fran9aise)  in  the  centre." 

"  You  do  not  mean  that  they  would  think  of  such  a  thing 
at  such  a  critical  moment,  even  if  the  republic  were  a  greater 
probability  than  it  appears  to  be  ?  "  I  remonstrated. 

"  I  do  mean  to  say  so,"  he  replied,  beckoning  at  the  same 
time  to  a  sleek,  corpulent  lieutenant,  standing  a  few  paces 
away.  "  Can  you  do  with  a  nice  lot  of  narrow  silk  ribbon  ?  " 
he  asked,  as  the  individual  walked  up  to  our  table. 

"  What  colour  ?  "  inquired  the  lieutenant. 

My  friend  gave  me  a  significant  look,  and  named  all  the 
hues  of  the  rainbow  except  white,  red,  and  blue. 

"  Won't  do,"  said  the  lieutenant,  shaking  his  head.  "  If 
it  had  been  red,  white,  and  blue  I  would  have  bought  as  much 
as  you  like,  because  I  am  manufacturing  rosettes  for  the  good 
cause."     After  this  he  walked  away. 

On  the  Thursday  afternoon  the  Boulevards  and  principal 
thoroughfares  swarmed  with  peripatetic  vendors  of  the  re- 


212  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

publican  insignia,  and  some  of  my  friends  expressed  their  sur- 
prise as  to  where  they  had  come  from  in  so  sliort  a  time.  See- 
ing that  they  were  Frenchmen,  I  held  my  tongue,  even  when 
one  professed  to  explain,  "  They  have  come  from  England  ; 
they  are  always  speculating  upon  our  misfortunes,  though 
they  do  it  cleverly  enough.  They  got  scent  of  what  was  com- 
ing, and  sent  them  over  as  quickly  as  they  could.  Truly  they 
are  a  great  nation — of  shopkeepers  ! "  I  was  reminded  of 
Beranger's  scapegrace,  when  he  was  accused  of  being  drunk. 

"  Qu'est  que  cela  me  fait,  a  inoi  ? 
Que  Ton  m'appelle  ivrogne  ?  " 
he  sings. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  the  excitement  increased  ;  the 
news  from  the  Boulevards  became  alarming,  and  at  about 
three  o'clock  the  company  marched  away.  As  a  matter  of 
course  we  followed,  and  equally,  as  a  matter  of  course,  did  not 
leave  them  until  2.30  next  morning.  Casualties  to  report.  A 
large  scratch  in  one  of  the  drummer's  cheeks,  made  by  an 
oyster-shell,  flung  at  the  company  as  it  turned  round  the  cor- 
ner of  the  Rue  de  Clery.  Ko  battles,  no  skirmishes,  a  great 
deal  of  fraternizing  with  "  le  peuple  souverain,"  whom,  in 
their  own  employ,  the  well-to-do  tradesmen  would  have  or- 
dered about  like  so  many  mangy  curs. 

From  that  day  forth  I  have  never  dipped  into  any  history 
of  modern  France,  professing  to  deal  with  the  political  causes 
and  effects  of  the  various  upheavals  during  the  nineteenth 
century  in  France.  They  may  be  worth  reading ;  I  do  not 
say  that  they  are  not.  I  have  preferred  to  look  at  the  men 
who  instigated  those  disorders,  and  have  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that,  had  each  of  them  been  bom  with  five  or  ten  thou- 
sand a  year,  their  names  would  have  been  absolutely  wanting 
in  connection  with  them.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  dis- 
orders would  not  have  taken  place,  but  they  would  have  al- 
ways been  led  by  men  in  want  of  five  or  ten  thousand  a  year. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  the  D'Orleans  family  had  been  less 
wealthy  than  they  are  there  would  have  been  no  firmly  set- 
tled third  republic ;  if  Louis-Napoleon  had  been  less  poor, 
there  would,  in  all  probability,  have  been  no  second  empire ; 
if  the  latter  had  lasted  another  year,  we  should  have  found 
Gambetta  among  the  ministers  of  N^apoleon  III.,  just  like 
Emile  Ollivier,  of  the  "  light  heart."  "  Les  convictions  po- 
litiques  en  France  sont  basees  sur  le  fait  que  le  louisd'or  vaut 
sept  fois  plus  que  Tecu  de  trois  francs."    This  is  the  dictum 


A  MILITARY  SPECTACLE.  213 

of  a  man  who  never  wished  to  be  anything,  who  steadfastly 
refused  all  offers  to  enter  the  arena  of  public  life. 

My  friend  and  I  had  been  baulked  of  the  drama  we  ex- 
pected— for  we  frankly  confessed  to  one  another  that  the 
utter  annihilation  of  that  company  of  National  Guards 
would  have  left  us  perfectly  unmoved, — and  got  instead,  a 
kind  of  first  act  of  a  military  spectacular  play,  such  as  we 
were  in  the  habit  of  seeing  at  Franconi's.  The  civic  war- 
riors were  ostensibly  bivouacking  on  the  Boulevard  St.  Mar- 
tin; they  stacked  their  muskets  and  fraternized  with  the 
crowd ;  it  would  not  have  surprised  us  in  the  least  to  see  a 
troupe  of  ballet  dancers  advance  into  our  midst  and  give  us 
the  entertainment  de  rigueur — the  intermede.  It  was  the 
only  thing  wanting  to  complete  the  picture,  from  which  even 
the  low  comedy  incident  was  not  wanting.  An  old  woebe- 
gone creature,  evidently  the  worse  for  liquor,  had  fallen 
down  while  a  patrol  of  regulars  was  passing.  He  was  not  a 
bit  hurt ;  but  there  and  then  the  rabble  proposed  to  carry 
him  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  to  give  him  an  apotheosis  as 
a  martyT  to  the  cause.  They  had  already  fetched  a  stretcher, 
and  were,  notwithstanding  his  violent  struggles,  hoisting 
him  on  it,  when  prevented  by  the  captain  of  the  National 
Guards. 

Still,  we  returned  next  day  to  the  Cafe  Gregoire.  In  the 
middle  of  the  place  there  lay  an  old  man — that  one,  stark 
dead,  who  had  been  fired  upon  without  rhyme  or  reason  by  a 
picket  of  the  National  Guards.  It  was  only  about  eleven 
o'clock,  and  those  valiant  defenders  of  public  order  were  still 
resting  from  their  fatigue — at  any  rate,  there  were  few  of 
them  about.  There  was  a  discussion  going  on  whether  they 
should  go  out  or  not — a  discussion  confined  to  the  captain, 
two  lieutenants,  and  as  many  sub-lieutenants.  They  ap- 
peared not  to  have  the  least  idea  of  the  necessity  to  refer 
for  orders  to  the  colonel  or  the  head-quarters  of  the  regiment 
or  the  legion,  as  it  was  called.  They  meant  to  settle  the 
matter  among  themselves.  The  great  argument  in  favour  of 
calling  out  the  men  was  that  one  of  them,  while  standing  at 
his  window  that  very  morning,  was  fired  at  by  a  passing  rag- 
amuffin, who,  instead  of  hitting  him,  shattered  his  window- 
panes. 

"  Well,"  said  one  of  the  lieutenants,  who  had  been  op- 
posed to  the  calling  out  of  the  men,  "  then  we  are  quits  after 
all;  for  look  at  the  old  fellow  lying  out  there." 


214  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

"  No,  we  are  not,"  retorts  the  captain ;  "  for  he  was  shot 
by  a  mistake,  so  he  doesn't  count." 

"  L'esprit  ne  perd  jamais  ses  droits  en  France ; "  so,  in 
another  moment  or  two,  the  bugle  sounded  lustily  through- 
out the  quarter.  We  followed  the  buglers  for  a  little  while, 
it  being  still  too  early  for  our  breakfast,  and  consequently 
enjoyed  the  felicity  of  seeing  a  good  many  of  the  warriors 
"  in  their  habit  as  they  lived  "  indoors — namely,  in  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers  and  smoking-caps.  For  most  of  them 
opened  their  windows  on  the  first,  second,  and  third  floors, 
to  inquire  whether  the  call  was  urgent.  The  buglers  entered 
into  explanations.  No,  the  call  was  not  urgent,  but  the  cap- 
tain had  decided  on  a  military  promenade,  just  to  reassure 
the  neighbourhood,  and  to  stimulate  the  martial  spirit  of  the 
lagging  members  of  the  company.  The  explanation  invari- 
ably provoked  the  same  answer,  and  in  a  voice  not  that  of 
the  citizen- warrior :  "  Que  le  capitaine  attende  jusqu'aprda  le 
dejeuner." 

Davoust  has  said  that  the  first  condition  of  the  fitness  of 
an  army  is  its  commissariat.  In  that  respect  every  one  of 
these  National  Guards  was  fit  to  be  a  Davoust,  for  their  forti- 
fying of  the  inner  man  was  not  accomplished  until  close  upon 
two  o'clock.  By  that  time  they  marched  out,  saluted  by  the 
cries  of  "  Vive  la  Keforme ! "  of  all  the  ragtag  and  bobtail 
from  the  Faubourgs  du  Temple  and  St.  Antoine,  who  had  in- 
vaded the  principal  thoroughfares.  The  "  Marseillaise,"  the 
"  Chant  des  Girondins,"  "  La  Eepublique  nous  appelle  "  re- 
sounded through  the  air ;  and  I  was  wondering  whether 
they  were  packing  their  trunks  at  the  Tuileries,  also  what 
these  National  Guards  had  come  out  for.  They  only  seemed 
to  impede  the  efficient  patrolling  of  the  streets  by  the  regu- 
lars, and,  instead  of  dispersing  the  rabble,  they  attracted 
them.  They  were  evidently  under  the  impression  that  they 
made  a  very  goodly  show,  and  at  every  word  of  command  I 
expected  to  see  the  captain  burst  asunder.  When  we  got  to 
the  Boulevard  St.  Martin,  the  latter  was  told  that  the  sixth 
legion  was  stationed  on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple.  A  move 
was  made  in  that  direction. 

Now  "  Eichard  is  himself  again ; "  he  is  among  the  crowd 
he  likes  best — the  crowd  of  the  Boulevard  du  Crime,  with  its 
theatres,  large  and  small,  its  raree  and  puppet  shows,  its 
open-air  entertainments,  its  cafes  and  mountebanks ;  and, 
what  is  more,  he  is  there  in  his  uniform,  distinguished  from 


THE  CIVIC   WARRIOR  IN  HIS  GLORY.  215 

the  rest,  and  consequently  the  cynosure  of  all  the  little  ac- 
tresses and  pretty  figurantes  who  have  just  left  the  rehearsal 
— for  by  this  time  it  is  after  three — and  who  are  but  too  will- 
ing to  be  entertained.  Appointments  are  made  to  dine  or  to 
sup  together,  without  the  slightest  reference  as  to  Avhat  may 
happen  in  the  interval.  All  at  once  there  is  an  outcry  and 
a  rush  towards  the  Porte  Saint-Martin ;  our  warriors  are 
obliged  to  leave  their  inamoratas,  and  when  they  come  to 
look  for  their  muskets,  which  they. have  placed  in  a  corner 
for  convenience'  sake,  they  find  that  a  good  many  have  disap- 
peared. The  customers  belonging  to  the  sovereign  people 
have  slunk  off  with  them.  Nevertheless  they  join  the  ranks, 
for  the  bugle  has  sounded.  At  the  corner  of  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Martin,  whence  the  noise  proceeded,  they  are  met  by 
three  or  four  score  of  the  sovereign  people,  ragged,  unkempt, 
who  are  pushing  in  front  of  them  two  of  the  studeuts  of  the 
Ecole  Polytechnique.  The  two  young  fellows  are  very  pale, 
and  can  scarcely  speak.  Still  they  manage  to  explain  that 
the  Municipal  Guard  at  the  Saint-Martin  barracks  have  fired 
upon  the  people  :  then  they  go  their  way.  Whither  ?  Heaven 
only  knows.  But  our  captain,  in  the  most  stentorian  of 
voices,  gives  the  word  of  command,  "  To  the  right,  wheel ! " 
and  we  are  striding  up  the  faubourg,  which  is  absolutely 
deserted  as  far  as  the  Eue  des  Marais.  A  collision  seems 
pretty  inevitable  now,  the  more  that  the  Municipal  Guards 
are  already  taking  aim,  when  all  at  once  our  captain  and  one 
of  the  lieutenants  rush  forward,  and  fling  themselves  into 
the  arms  of  the  officers  of  the  Municipal  Guards.  Tableau  ; 
and  I  am  baulked  once  more  of  a  good  fight.  I  leave  my 
friend  to  see  the  rest  of  this  ridiculous  comedy,  and  take  my 
departure  there  and  then. 

The  following  is  my  companion's  account  of  what  hap- 
pened after  I  left.  I  am  as  certain  that  every  word  of  it  is 
true  as  if  I  had  been  there  myself,  though  it  seems  almost 
incredible  that  French  officers,  whose  worst  enemies  have 
never  accused  them  of  being  deficient  in  courage,  should 
have  acted  so  inconsiderately. 

"  The  officers  of  the  National  Guards  appear  to  have  as- 
sumed at  once  the  office  of  protectors  of  the  regulars  against 
the  violence  of  the  crowd.  Why  the  regulars  should  have 
submitted  to  this,  seeing  that  they  were  far  better  armed 
than  their  would-be  guardians,  I  am  unable  to  say.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  the  regulars  consented,  the  flag  floating  above  the 


216  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

principal  door  of  the  barracks  was  taken  down,  and  I  really 
believe  that  the  Municipal  Guards  stacked  their  arms  and 
virtually  handed  them  over  to  the  others.  But  I  will  not 
vouch  for  it.  At  any  rate,  a  few  hours  afterwards,  while  the 
company  had  gone  to  dinner,  the  barracks  were  assailed,  the 
men  and  officers  knocked  down  by  the  people,  and  the  build- 
ing set  on  fire.  When  the  fifth  legion  returned  about  eleven 
o'clock  to  the  Faubourg  Saint-Martin,  the  flames  were  leap- 
ing up  to  the  sky,  so  they  turned  their  heels  contentedly 
in  the  direction  of  the  Boulevard  du  Temple,  where  -they 
bivouacked  between  the  Thedtre  de  la  Gaite  and  the  Ambigu- 
Comique,  while  those  who  had  made  appointments  with  the 
little  actresses  went  round  by  the  stage  doors  to  keep  them. 
That,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  was  the  part  of  the  fifth  legion 
in  the  day's  proceedings,  I  left  them  in  all  their  glory, 
thinking  themselves,  no  doubt,  very  fine  fellows. 

*'  On  the  Thursday  morning  " — my  companion  told  me 
all  this  on  Saturday  evening,  the  26th  of  February — "  I  was 
up  betimes,  simply  because  the  drumming  and  bugling  pre- 
vented my  sleeping.  At  eight,  the  Cafe  Gregoire  was  already 
very  full,  the  heroes  of  the  previous  night  had  returned  to 
perform  their  ablutions,  and  also,  I  suppose,  to  reassure  their 
anxious  spouses ;  but  they  had  no  longer  that  conquering  air 
I  noticed  when  I  left  them  the  night  before.  Whether  they 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  both  in  love  and  war  they 
had  reaped  but  barren  victories,  I  cannot  say,  but  their  re- 
publican ardour,  it  seemed  to  me,  had  considerably  cooled 
down.  I  am  convinced  that,  notwithstanding  the  events  of 
Wednesday  night  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Martin,  they  were 
under  the  impression  that  neither  the  people  nor  the  military 
would  resort  to  further  extremities.  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that,  after  I  left,  not  a  single  man  could  have  remained  at  his 
})ost,  because  not  one  amongst  them  seemed  to  have  an  idea 
of  the  horrible  slaughter  on  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines.* 

*  The  author,  as  will  be  seen  directly,  saw  nothing  of  that  massacre,  though 
he  must  have  passed  within  a  few  hunclred  yards  of  the  spot  immediately  be- 
fore it  began.  It  would  have  been  the  same  if  he  had  ;  he  could  not  have  ex- 
plained the  cause,  seeing  that  the  most  painstaking  historians  who  have  con- 
sulted the  most  trustworthy  eye-witnesses  have  failed  to  do  so.  It  will  always 
remain  a  mystery  whence  the  first  shot  came,  %vhether  from  the  military  wfio 
were  drawn  up  across  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines.  on  the  spot  where  now 
stands  the  Grand  Cafe,  or  from  the  crowd  that  wanted  to  pass,  in  order  to  pro- 
ceed to  Odilon-Barrot's  to  serenade  him,  because,  notwithstandincr  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  king,  he  was  to  be  included  in  the  new  ministry,  which  Mole  had 
been  instructed  to  form.    It  may  safely  be  said,  however,  that,  but  for  that  shot 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  217 

They  were  not  left  very  long  in  ignorance  of  the  real  state  of 
affairs,  and  then  they  saw  at  once  that  they  had  roused  a 
spectre  they  would  be  unable  to  lay.  From  that  moment,  it 
is  my  opinion,  they  would  have  willingly  drawn  back,  but  it 
was  too  late.  While  they  were  still  debating,  an  individual 
rushed  in,  telling  them  that  one  or  two  regiments,  command- 
ed by  a  general  (who  turned  out  to  be  General  Bedeau),  had 
drawn  up  in  front  of  the  barricade  which  had  been  thrown 
up  during  the  night  in  the  Boulevard  Bonne-Nouvelle,  and 
was  being  defended  by  a  detachment  of  the  fifth  legion. 
They  all  ran  out,  and  I  ran  with  them.  When  we  got  to  the 
boulevard,  matters  had  already  been  arranged,  and  they  were 
just  in  time  to  join  the  escort  General  Bedeau  had  accepted, 
after  having  consented  not  to  execute  the  orders  with  which 
he  had  been  entrusted.  By  that  time  I  began  to  perceive 
which  way  the  wind  was  blowing :  the  canaille  had  uncere- 
moniously linked  their  arms  in  those  of  the  National  Guards, 
and  insisted,  courteously  but  firmly,  on  carrying  their  fire- 
arms. When  we  got  to  the  Eue  Montmartre,  they  took  the 
horses  out  of  the  gun-carriages,  and  the  soldiers  looked  tame- 
ly on,  notwithstanding  the  commands  of  their  oflBcers.  When 
the  latter  endeavoured  to  enforce  their  orders  by  hitting 
them  with  the  flat  of  their  swords,  they  simply  left  the  ranks 
and  joined  the  rabble.  I  had  had  enough  of  it,  and  made 
my  way  home  by  the  back  streets.  I  had  had  enough  of  it, 
and  kept  indoors  until  this  afternoon." 

Thus  far  my  informant.  As  for  myself,  I  saw  little  on 
the  Wednesday  night  of  what  was  going  on.  It  was  my  own 
fault :  I  was  too  optimistic.  I  had  scarcely  gone  a  few 
steps,  after  my  dinner,  when,  just  in  front  of  the  Gymnase, 
they  began  shouting,  "Za  Patrie,  Journal  du  soir;  achetez 
La  Patrie.  Voyez  le  nouveau  ministere  de  Monsieur  Mole." 
I  remember  giving  the  fellow  half  a  franc,  at  which  he  grum- 
bled, though  it  was  three  times  the  ordinary  price.  On 
opening  the  paper,  I  rashly  concluded  from  Avhat  I  read  that 
the  revolution  was  virtually  at  an  end,  and  I  was  the  more 
confirmed  in  my  opinion  by  the  almost  instantaneous  light- 
ing up  of  the  Boulevards.  It  was  like  a  fairy  scene :  people 
were  illuminating — a  little  bit  too  soon,  as  it  turned  out. 
Being  tired  of  wandering,  and  feeling  no  inclination  for  bed, 

and  the  slaughter  consequent  upon  it,  the  revolution  might  have  been  averted 
then — after  all,  perhaps,  only  temporarily. — Editor. 

10 


218  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

I  turned  into  the  Gymnase.  There  were  Bressant  and  Rose 
Cheri  and  Arnal;  I  would  surely  be  able  to  spend  a  few 
pleasant  hours.  But  alack  and  alas  !  the  house  presented  a 
very  doleful  appearance — dead-heads,  to  a  man ;  and  very 
few  of  these,  people  who,  if  they  could  not  fiddle  themselves, 
like  Nero  while  Rome  was  burning,  would  go  to  hear  fiddling 
under  no  matter  what  circumstances,  provided  they  were  not 
asked  to  pay.  I  did  not  stay  long,  but  when  I  came  out  into 
the  streets  the  noise  was  too  deafening  for  me.  The  "  Mar- 
seillaise "  has  always  had  a  particularly  jarring  effect  upon 
my  nerves.  There  are  days  when  I  could  be  cruel  enough  to 
prefer  "  the  yells  of  those  ferocious  soldiers,  as  they  murder 
in  cold  blood  the  sons  and  the  companions "  of  one  section 
of  defenceless  patriots,  to  the  stirring  strains  of  the  other 
section  as  they  figuratively  rush  to  the  rescue ;  and  on  that 
particular  evening  I  felt  in  that  mood.  So,  when  I  got  to  the 
Boulevard  Montmartre,  I  turned  into  the  Theatre  des  Varie- 
tes.  I  remember  the  programme  up  to  this  day.  They  were 
playing  "  Le  Suisse  de  Marly,"  "  Le  Marquis  de  Lauzun," 
"  Les  Extremes  se  touchent,"  and  "  Les  Vieux  Peches."  I  had 
seen  the  second  and  the  last  piece  at  least  a  dozen  times,  but 
I  was  always  ready  to  see  them  again  for  the  sake  of  Virginia 
Dejazet  in  the  one,  of  Bouffe  in  the  other.  The  lessee  at 
that  time  was  an  Englishman.  Bouffe  and  I  had  always 
kept  up  our  friendship ;  so  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  and 
have  a  chat  with  him,  hoping  that  Dejazet,  whose  conversa- 
tion affected  one  like  a  bottle  of  champagne,  would  join  us. 
The  house,  like  the  Gymnase,  was  almost  empty,  but  I  made 
my  way  behind  the  scenes,  and  in  about  half  an  hour  forgot 
all  about  the  events  outside.  Bouffe  was  telling  me  anec- 
dotes about  his  London  performances,  and  Dejazet  was  imi- 
tating the  French  of  some  of  the  bigwigs  of  King  Leopold's 
court ;  so  the  time  passed  pleasantly  enough.  At  the  end  of 
the  performance  we  proposed  taking  supper,  and  turned 
down  the  Rue  Montmartre.  It  was  late  when  I  returned 
home,  consequently  I  saw  nothing  of  the  slaughter  on  the 
Boulevard  des  Capucines. 

Though  I  had  gone  to  bed  late,  I  was  up  betimes  on  the 
Thursday  morning.  A  glance  at  the  Boulevards,  as  I  turned 
the  corner  of  my  street  about  half- past  nine,  convinced  me 
that  the  illuminations  of  the  previous  night  had  been  pre- 
mature, and  that  before  the  day  was  out  there  would  be  an 
end  of  the  monarchy  of  July.     A  slight  mist  was  still  hang- 


THE  SOLDIERS  AND  THE  PEOPLE.  219 

ing  over  the  city  as  I  strolled  in  the  direction  of  the  Made- 
leine, and  the  weather  was  damp  and  raw,  but  in  about  half 
an  hour  the  sun  broke  through.  A  shot  was  heard  now  and 
then,  but  I  myself  saw  no  collision  then  between  the  troops 
and  the  people.  On  the  contrary,  it  looked  to  me  as  if  the 
former  Avould  have  been  glad  to  be  left  alone.  As  I  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  home  without  my  usual  cup  of  tea  for  want 
of  milk — the  servant  had  told  me  there  was  none — I  went 
back  a  little  way  to  Tortoni's,  where  I  was  greeted  with  the 
same  answer.  I  could  have  tea  or  coffee  or  chocolate  made 
with  water,  but  milk  there  was  none  on  that  side  of  Paris, 
and,  unless  things  took  a  turn,  there  would  be  no  butter.  The 
sovereign  people  had  thrown  up  barricades  during  the  night 
round  all  the  northern  and  north-western  issues,  and  would 
not  let  the  milk-carts  pass.  They,  no  doubt,  had  some  more 
potent  fluids  to  fall  back  upon,  for  a  good  many,  even  at  that 
early  hour,  were  by  no  means  steady  in  their  gait.  The 
Boulevards  were  swarming  with  them.  Since  then,  I  have 
seen  these  sovereign  people  getting  the  upper  hand  twice, 
viz.  on  the  4th  of  September,  '70,  and  on  the  18th  of  March, 
'71.  I  have  seen  them  during  the  siege  of  Paris,  and  I  have 
no  hesitation  in  saying  that,  for  cold-blooded,  apish,  monkey- 
ish, tigerish  cruelty,  there  is  nothing  on  the  face  of  God's 
earth  to  match  them,  and  that  no  concessions  wrung  from 
society  on  their  behalf  will  ever  make  them  anything  else 
but  the  fiends  in  human  shape  they  are. 

After  my  fruitless  attempt  to  get  my  accustomed  break- 
fast, I  resumed  my  perambulations,  this  time  taking  the  Eue 
Vivienne  as  far  as  the  Palais-Eoyal.  It  must  have  been  be- 
tween half -past  ten  and  eleven  when  I  reached  the  Place  du 
Carrousel,  which,  at  a  rough  guess,  was  occupied  by  about 
five  thousand  regular  infantry  and  horse  and  National  Guards. 
The  Place  du  Carrousel  was  not  then,  what  it  became  later 
on,  a  large  open  space.  Part  of  it  was  encumbered  with  nar- 
row streets  of  very  tall  houses,  and  from  their  windows  and 
roofs  the  sovereign  people — according  to  an  officer  who  had 
been  on  duty  from  early  morn — had  been  amusing  themselves 
by  firing  on  the  troops, — not  in  downright  volleys,  but  with 
isolated  shots,  picking  out  a  man  here  and  there.  "  But,"  I 
remonstrated,  "  half  a  dozen  pompiers  and  a  score  of  lines- 
men could  dislodge  them  in  less  than  ten  minutes,  instead  of 
returning  their  shots  one  by  one."  "  So  they  could,"  was  the 
reply,  "  but  orders  came  from  the  Chateau  not  to  do  so,  and 


220  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

here  we  are.  Besides,"  added  my  informant,  "  I  doubt  very 
much,  if  I  gave  my  men  the  word  of  command  to  storm  the 
place,  whether  they  would  do  so;  they  are  thoroughly  de- 
moralized. On  our  way  hither  I  had  the  greatest  difficulty 
in  keeping  them  together.  Without  a  roll-call  I  could  not 
exactly  tell  you  how  many  are  missing,  but  as  we  came  along 
I  noticed  several  falling  out  and  going  into  the  wine-shops 
with  the  rabble.  They  did  not  come  back  again.  I  had  to 
shut  my  eyes  to  it.  If  I  had  attempted  to  prevent  it,  there 
would  have  been  a  more  horrible  slaughter  than  there  was 
last  night  on  the  Boulevards,  and,  what  is  worse,  the  men 
who  remained  staunch  would  have  been  in  a  minority,  and 
not  able  to  stand  their  ground.  The  mob  have  got  hold  of 
the  muskets  of  the  National  Guards.  I  dare  say,  as  you 
came  along,  you  noticed  on  many  doors,  written  up  in  chalk, 
*Arms  given  up,'  and  on  some  the  words  'with  pleasure' 
added  to  the  statement,"  It  was  perfectly  true;  I  had 
noticed  it. 

I  was  still  talking  to  the  captain  when  the  drums  began 
to  beat  and  the  buglers  sounded  the  salute.  At  the  same 
moment  I  saw  the  King,  in  the  uniform  of  a  general  of  the 
National  Guards,  cross  the  court-yard  on  horseback.  I  no- 
ticed a  great  many  ladies  at  the  ground-floor  windows  of  the 
palace,  but  could  not  distinguish  their  faces.  I  was  told  aft- 
erwards that  they  were  the  Queen  and  the  princesses,  endeav- 
ouring to  encourage  the  septuagenarian  monarch.  Louis-Phi- 
lippe was  seventy-five  then. 

I  have  often  heard  and  seen  it  stated  by  historians  of  the 
revolution  of  '48,  that  the  Duke  d'Aumale  and  the  Prince  de 
Joinville,  had  they  been  in  Paris,  would  have  saved  their  fa- 
ther's crown.  This  is  an  assumption  which  it  is  difficult  to 
disprove,  seeing  how  popular  these  young  princes  were  then. 
But  if  the  assumption  is  meant  to  convey  that  the  mob  at  the 
sight  of  these  brave  young  fellows  would  have  laid  down  their 
arms  without  fighting,  I  can  unhesitatingly  contradict  it. 
What  the  National  Guard  might  have  done  it  is  impossible  to 
say.  The  regulars,  no  doubt,  would  have  followed  the  princes 
into  battle,  as  they  would  have  followed  their  brother,  De  Ne- 
mours, notwithstanding  the  latter's  unpopularity.  There 
would  have  been  a  great  deal  of  bloodshed,  but  the  last  word 
would  have  remained  with  the  Government.  Louis- Philippe's 
greatest  title  to  glory  is  that  of  having  prevented  such  blood- 
shed.    But  to  show  how  little  such  abnegation  of  self  is  un- 


EXIT  LOUIS-PHILIPPE.  221 

derstood  by  even  the  most  educated  Frenchmen,  I  must  re- 
late a  story  which  was  told  to  me  many  years  afterwards  by  a 
French  officer  who,  at  that  time,  had  Just  returned  from  the 
Pontifical  States,  where  he  had  helped  to  defeat  the  small 
army  of  Garibaldi.  He  was  describing  the  battle-field  of 
Mentana  to  Napoleon  III.,  and  mentioned  a  prisoner  he  had 
made  who  turned  out  to  be  an  old  acquaintance  from  the 
Boulevards.  "  He  was  furious  against  Garibaldi,  sire,"  said 
the  officer,  "  because  the  latter  had  placed  him  in  the  neces- 
sity, as  it  were,  of  firing  upon  his  own  countrymen  in  a  strange 
land.  Said  the  prisoner,  '  I  am  not  an  emigre  ;  I  would  not 
have  gone  to  Coblenz ;  I  am  a  Frenchman  from  the  crown  of 
my  head  to  the  sole  of  my  foot.  If  it  came  to  fighting  my 
countrymen  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  that  would  be  a  different 
thing.  I  should  not  have  the  slightest  scruple  of  firing  upon 
the  Imperial  Guards  or  upon  the  rabble,  as  the  case  might 
be,  for  that  would  be  civil  war.'     That's  what  he  said,  sire." 

Napoleon  nodded  his  head,  and  with  his  wonderful,  sphinx- 
like smile,  replied, "  Your  prisoner  was  right ;  it  makes  all  the 
difference."  The  Orleans  princes,  save  perhaps  one,  never 
knew  these  distinctions ;  if  they  had  known  them,  the  Comte 
de  Paris  might  be  King  of  France  to-day. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Louis-Philippe  as  I  saw  him 
at  the  last  moments  of  his  reign.  He  felt  evidently  disap- 
pointed at  the  lukewarm  reception  he  received,  for  though 
there  was  a  faint  cry  among  the  regulars  of  "  Vive  le  Roi !  '* 
it  was  immediately  drowned  by  the  stentorian  one  of  the  rab- 
ble of  "  Vive  la  Ref  orme ! "  in  which  a  good  many  of  the  Na- 
tional Guards  joined.  He  was  evidently  in  a  hurry  to  get 
back  to  the  Tuileries,  and,  when  he  disappeared  in  the  door- 
way, I  had  looked  upon  him  for  the  last  time  in  my  life.  An 
hour  and  a  half  later,  he  had  left  Paris  for  ever. 


Personally  I  saw  nothing  of  the  flight  of  the  King,  nor  of 
the  inside  of  the  Tuileries,  until  the  royal  family  were  gone. 
The  story  of  that  flight  was  told  to  me  several  years  later  by 
the  Due  de  Montpensier.  What  is  worse,  in  those  days  it 
never  entered  my  mind  that  a  time  would  come  when  I  should 
feel  desirous  of  committing  my  reminiscences  to  paper,  con- 
sequently I  kept  no  count  of  the  hours  that  went  by,  and  can- 
not, therefore,  give  the  exact  sequence  of  events.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  I  stood  among  the  soldiers  and  the  crowd. 


222  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

scarcely  divided  from  one  another  even  by  an  imaginary  line. 
It  was  not  a  pleasant  crowd,  though  to  my  great  surprise  there 
were  a  great  many  more  decently  dressed  persons  in  it  than  I 
could  have  expected,  so  I  stayed  on.  About  half  an  hour 
after  the  King  re-entered  the  Tuileries,  I  noticed  two  gentle- 
men elbow  their  way  through  the  serried  masses.  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  the  one  in  civilian's  clothes.  Though 
he  was  by  no  means  so  famous  as  he  became  afterwards,  there 
was  hardly  a  Parisian  who  would  not  have  recognized  him  on 
the  spot.  His  portrait  had  been  drawn  over  and  over  again, 
at  least  as  many  times  as  that  of  the  King,  and  it  is  a  posi- 
tive fact  that  nurses  frightened  their  babies  with  it.  He  was 
the  ugliest  man  of  the  century.  It  was  M.  Adolphe  Cre- 
mieux.*  His  companion  was  in  uniform.  I  learnt  after- 
wards that  it  was  General  Gourgaud,  but  I  did  not  know  him 
then  except  by  name,  and  in  connection  with  his  polemics 
with  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  in  which  the  latter  did  not 
altogether  behave  with  the  generosity  one  expects  from  an 
English  gentleman  towards  a  fallen  foe.  As  they  passed,  the 
old  soldier  must  have  been  recognized,  because  not  one,  but 
at  least  a  hundred  cries  resounded,  "  Vive  la  grande  armee ! 
Vive  I'Empereur ! "  In  after  years  I  thought  that  these  cries 
sounded  almost  prophetic,  though  I  am  pretty  sure  that  those 
who  uttered  them  had  not  the  slightest  hope  of,  and  perhaps 
not  even  a  desire  for,  a  Napoleonic  restoration ;  at  any  rate, 
not  the  majority.  There  is  one  thing,  however,  which  could 
not  have  failed  to  strike  the  impartial  observer  during  the 
next  twenty  years.  I  have  seen  a  good  many  riots,  small  and 
large,  during  the  Second  Eepublic  and  the  Second  Empire. 
"  Seditious  cries,"  as  a  matter  of  course,  were  freely  shouted. 
I  have  never  heard  a  single  one  of  "  Vivent  les  D'Orleans ! " 
or  "  Vivent  les  Bourbons ! "  I  have  already  spoken  more  than 
once  about  the  powerful  influence  of  the  Napoleonic  legend 
in  those  days ;  I  shall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  it  again  and 
again  when  speaking  about  the  nephew  of  the  first  Napoleon. 
Cremieux  and  Gourgaud  could  not  have  been  inside  the 
Tuileries  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  when  they  rushed 
out  again.  They  evidently  made  a  communication  to  the 
troops,  because  I  beheld  the  latter  waving  their  arms,  but,  of 


*  The  author  is  slightly  mistaken.  The  two  ugliest  men  in  France  in  the 
nineteenth  century  were  Andrieux,  who  wrote  "  Les  Etourdis,"  and  Littr6 ;  but 
Cremieux  ran  them  very  hard. — Editob. 


SCENES  AT  THE  TUILERIES.  223 

course,  I  did  not  catch  a  word  of  what  they  said  ;  I  was  too 
far  away.  It  was,  I  learnt  afterwards,  the  announcement  of 
the  advent  of  a  new  ministry,  and  the  appointment  of  a  new 
commander  of  the  National  Guards.  When  I  saw  hats  and 
caps  flung  into  the  air,  and  heard  the  people  shouting,  I 
made  certain  that  the  revolution  was  at  an  end.  I  was  mis- 
taken. It  was  not  Cremieux's  communication  at  all  that  had 
provoked  the  enthusiasm ;  it  was  a  second  communication, 
made  by  some  one  from  the  doorway  of  the  Tuileries  im- 
mediately after  the  eminent  barrister  had  disappeared  among 
the  crowd,  to  the  effect  that  the  King  had  abdicated  in 
favour  of  the  Comte  de  Paris,  with  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans 
as  regent.  Between  the  first  and  second  announcements 
there  could  not  have  elapsed  more  than  five  or  six  minutes, 
ten  at  the  utmost,  because,  before  Phad  time  to  recover  from 
my  surprise,  I  saw  Cremieux  and  Gourgaud  battle  through 
the  tightly  wedged  masses  once  more,  and  re-enter  the 
Tuileries  to  verify  the  news.  I  am  writing  this  note  espe- 
cially by  the  light  of  subsequent  information,  for,  I  repeat,  it 
was  impossible  to  understand  events  succinctly  by  the  quickly 
succeeding  effects  they  produced  at  the  time.  Another  ten 
minutes  elapsed — ten  minutes  which  I  shall  never  forget,  be- 
cause every  one  of  the  thousands  present  on  the  Place  du 
Carrousel  was  in  momentary  danger  of  having  the  life 
crushed  out  of  him.  It  was  no  one's  fault ;  there  was,  if  I 
recollect  rightly,  but  one  narrow  issue  on  the  river-side,  and 
there  was  a  dense  seething  mass  standing  on  the  banks,  not- 
withstanding the  danger  of  that  position,  for  the  insurgents 
were  firing  freely  and  recklessly  across  the  stream.  Egress 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  that  of  the 
Place  du  Palais-Eoyal,  had  become  absolutely  impossible,  for 
at  that  moment  a  fierce  battle  was  raging  there  between  the 
people  and  the  National  Guards  for  the  possession  of  the 
military  post  of  the  Chateau  d'Eau ;  *  and  those  of  the  non- 
combatants  who  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  pay  for  the  fall 
or  the  maintenance  of  the  monarchy  of  July  with  life  or 
limb,  tried  to  get  out  of  the  bullets'  reach.  There  was  but 
one  way  of  doing  so,  by  a  stampede  in  a  southerly  direction ; 
the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  at  any  rate  that  part  which  existed,  was 

*  So  called  after  a  large  ornamental  fountain :  the  same,  I  believe,  which 
subsequently  was  transferred  to  what  is  now  called  the  Place  de  la  Eepublique, 
and  which  Anally  found  its  way  to  the  Avenue  Daumesnil,  where  it  stands  at 
present. — Editor, 


224  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

entirely  blocked  to  the  west,  the  congeries  of  streets  that 
have  been  pulled  down  since  to  make  room  for  its  prolonga- 
tion to  the  east  were  bristling  with  barricades :  hence  the 
terrible,  suffocating  crush,  in  which  several  persons  lost  their 
lives.  The  most  curious  incident  connected  with  these  awful 
ten  minutes  was  that  of  a  woman  and  her  baby.  When 
Cremieux  issued  for  the  second  time  from  the  Tuileries,  it 
was  to  confirm  the  news  of  the  King's  abdication.  Almost 
immediately  afterwards,  the  masses  on  the  quay  were  making 
for  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  and  the  Palais-Bourbon, 
whither,  it  was  rumoured,  the  Duchesse  D'Orleans  and  her 
two  sons  were  going ;  and  gradually  the  wedged-in  mass  on 
the  Place  du  Carrousel  found  breathing  space.  Then  the 
woman  was  seen  to  fall  down  like  a  ninepin  that  has  been 
toppled  over;  she  was  dead,  but  her  baby,  which  she  had 
held  above  the  crowd,  and  which  they  had,  as  it  were,  to 
wrench  from  her  grasp,  was  alive  and  well. 

I  stood  for  a  little  while  longer  on  the  Place  du  Carrousel, 
trying  to  make  up  my  mind  whether  to  proceed  to  the  Place  de 
la  Concorde  or  to  the  Place  de  I'Hdtel  de  Ville.  I  knew  that 
the  newly-elected  powers,  whosoever  they  might  be,  would 
make  their  appearance  at  the  latter  spot,  but  how  long  it 
would  be  before  they  came,  I  had  not  the  least  idea.  I  was 
determined,  however,  to  see  at  any  rate  one  act  of  the  drama 
or  the  farce ;  for  even  then  there  was  no  knowing  in  what 
guise  events  would  present  themselves.  I  could  hear  the 
reports  of  firearms  on  both  sides  of  me,  though  why  there 
should  be  firing  when  the  King  had  thrown  up  the  sponge, 
I  could  not  make  out  for  the  life  of  me.  I  did  not  know 
France  so  well  then  as  I  know  her  now.  I  did  not  know 
then  that  there  is  no  man  or,  for  that  matter,  no  woman  on 
the  civilized  earth  so  heedlessly  and  obdurately  bloodthirsty 
when  he  or  she  works  himself  into  a  fury  as  the  professedly 
debonnaire  Parisian  proletarian.  Nevertheless,  I  decided  to 
go  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  had  carefully  worked  my  way 
as  far  as  the  site  of  the  present  Place  du  Chdtelet,  when  I 
was  compelled  to  retrace  my  steps.  The  elite  of  the  Paris 
scum  was  going  to  dictate  its  will  to  the  new  Government ; 
it  was  marching  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  with  banners 
flying.  One  of  the  latter  was  a  red-and-white  striped  flannel 
petticoat,  fastened  to  a  tremendously  long  pole.  I  had  no 
choice,  and  if  at  that  moment  my  friends  had  seen  me  they 
might  have  easily  imagined  that  I  had  become  one  of  the  lead- 


THE  SACKING  OF  THE  TUILERIES.  225 

ers  of  the  revolutionary  mob.  "We  took  by  the  Quai  de  la  Me- 
gisserie,  and  just  before  the  Pont  des  Arts  there  was  a  mo- 
mentary halt.  The  vanguard,  which  I  was  apparently  lead- 
ing, had  decided  to  turn  to  the  right ;  in  other  Avords,  to 
visit  the  abode  of  the  hated  tyrant.  Had  I  belonged  to  the 
main  division,  I  should  have  witnessed  a  really  more  im- 
portant scene,  from  the  historical  point  of  view ;  as  it  was,  I 
witnessed — 

The  Sacking  of  the  Tuileeies. 

The  idea  that  "  there  is  a  divinity  that  hedgeth  round  a 
king"  seemed,  I  admit,  preposterous  enough  at  that  mo- 
ment; but  I  could  not  help  being  struck  with  its  partial 
truth  on  seeing  the  rabble  invade  the  palace.  When  I  say 
the  rabble,  I  mean  the  rabble,  though  there  were  a  great 
many  persons  whom  it  would  be  an  insult  to  class  as  such, 
and  who  from  sheer  curiosity,  or  because  they  could  not  help 
themselves,  had  gone  in  with  them.  The  doors  proved  too 
narrow,  and  those  who  could  not  enter  by  that  way,  entered 
by  the  windows.  The  whole  contingent  of  the  rilf-raff,  male 
and  female,  weltering  in  the  adjacent  streets — and  such 
streets  I — was  there.  Well,  for  the  first  ten  minutes  they 
stood  positively  motionless,  not  daring  to  touch  anything. 
It  was  not  the  fear  of  being  caught  pilfering  and  punished 
summarily  that  prevented  them.  The  minority  which  might 
have  protested  was  so  utterly  insignificant  in  numbers,  as  to 
make  action  on  their  part  impossible.  No,  it  was  neither 
fear  nor  shame  that  stayed  the  rabble's  hands ;  it  was  a  sen- 
timent for  which  I  can  find  no  name.  It  was  the  conscious- 
ness that  these  objects  had  belonged  to  a  king,  to  a  royal 
family,  which  made  them  gaze  upon  them  in  a  kind  of 
superstitious  wonder.  It  did  not  last  long.  We  were  on  the 
ground  floor,  which  mainly  consisted  of  the  private  apart- 
ments of  the  household  of  Louis-Philippe.  We  were  wander- 
ing, or  rather  squeezing,  through  the  study  and  bedroom  of 
the  King  himself,  through  the  sitting-rooms  of  the  princes 
and  princesses.  I  do  not  think  that  a  single  thing  was  taken 
from  there  at  that  particular  time.  But  as  if  the  atmosphere 
their  rulers  had  breathed  but  so  very  recently  became  too 
oppressive,  the  crowd  swayed  towards  the  vestibule,  and 
ascended  the  grand  staircase.  Then  the  spell  was  broken. 
The  second  batch,  that  entered  through  the  windows,  when 
we  had  made  room  for  them,  were  apparently  not  affected 


226  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

by  wonder  and  respect,  for,  half  an  hour  later,  when  I  came 
down  again,  every  cupboard,  every  wardrobe,  had  been  forced, 
though  it  is  but  fair  to  say  that  very  little  seems  to  have  been 
taken ;  the  contents,  books,  clothing,  linen,  etc.,  were  scat- 
tered on  the  floors ;  but  the  cellars,  containing  over  four 
thousand  bottles  of  wine,  were  positively  empty.  Two  hours 
later,  however,  the  clothing,  especially  that  of  the  princesses, 
had  totally  disappeared.  It  had  disappeared  on  the  backs 
of  the  inmates  of  St.  Lazare,  the  doors  of  which  had  been 
thrown  open,  and  who  had  rushed  to  the  Tuileries  to  deck 
themselves  with  these  fine  feathers  which,  in  this  instance, 
did  not  make  fine  birds.  I  saw  some  of  them  that  same 
evening  on  the  Boulevards,  and  a  more  heart-rending  spec- 
tacle I  have  rarely  beheld. 

The  three  hours  I  spent  at  the  Tuileries  were  so  crowded 
with  events  as  to  make  a  succinct  account  of  them  altogether 
impossible.  I  can  only  give  fragments,  because,  though  at 
first  the  wearers  of  broadcloth  were  not  molested,  this  toler- 
ance did  not  last  long  on  the  part  of  the  new  possessors  of 
the  Tuileries ;  and  consequently  the  former  gradually  dropped 
off,  and  those  of  them  who  remained  had  to  be  very  circum- 
spect, and,  above  all,  not  to  linger  long  in  the  same  spot. 
This  growing  hostility  might  have  been  nipped  in  the  bud 
by  our  following  the  example  of  the  National  Guards,  and 
taking  off  our  coats  and  fraternizing  with  the  rabble ;  but  I 
frankly  confess  that  I  had  neither  the  courage  nor  the  stom- 
ach to  do  so.  I  have  read  descriptions  of  mutinous  sailors 
stowing  in  casks  of  rum  and  gorging  themselves  with  vict- 
uals ;  revolting  as  such  scenes  must  be  to  those  who  take  no 
active  part  in  them,  I  doubt  whether  they  could  be  as  revolt- 
ing as  the  one  I  witnessed  in  the  Gallerie  de  Diane. 

The  Gallerie  de  Diane  was  one  of  the  large  reception 
rooms  on  the  first  floor,  but  it  generally  served  as  the  dining 
and  breakfast  room  of  the  royal  family.  The  table  had  been 
laid  for  about  three  dozen  persons,  because,  as  a  rule,  Louis- 
Philippe  invited  the  principal  members  of  his  military  and 
civil  households  to  take  their  repasts  with  him.  The  break- 
fast had  been  interrupted,  and  not  been  cleared  away.  When 
I  entered  the  apartment  some  sixty  or  seventy  ruffians  of 
both  sexes  were  seated  at  the  board,  while  a  score  or  so  were 
engaged  in  waiting  upon  them.  They  were  endeavouring  to 
accomplish  Avhat  the  Highest  Authority  has  declared  impos- 
sible of  accomplishment,  namely,  the  making  of  silken  purses 


THE  SOVEREIGN  PEOPLE  AT  TABLE.  227 

out  of  sows'  ears.  They  were  "  putting  on  "  what  they  con- 
sidered "  company  manners,"  and,  under  any  other  circum- 
stances but  these,  the  attempt  would  have  proved  irresistibly 
comic  to  the  educated  spectator ;  as  it  was,  it  brought  tears 
to  one's  eyes.  I  have  already  hinted  elsewhere  that  the  cui- 
sine at  the  Tuileries  during  Louis-Philippe's  reign  was  ex- 
ecrable, though  the  wine  was  generally  good.  Bad  as  was 
the  fare  on  that  abandoned  breakfast-table,  it  must,  never- 
theless, have  been  superior  to  that  usually  partaken  of  by 
the  convives  who  had  taken  the  place  of  the  fugitive  king 
and  princes.  They,  the  convives,  however,  did  not  think  so ; 
they  criticized  the  food,  and  ordered  the  improvised  attend- 
ants "  to  give  them  something  different ;  "  then  they  turned 
to  their  female  companions,  filling  their  glasses  and  paying 
them  compliments.  But  for  the  fact  of  another  batch  ea- 
gerly claiming  their  turn,  the  repast  would  have  been  indefi- 
nitely prolonged ;  as  it  was,  the  provisions  in  the  palace  were 
running  short,  and  the  deficiency  had  to  be  made  up  by  sup- 
plies from  outside.  The  inner  man  being  refreshed,  the  la- 
dies were  invited  to  take  a  stroll  through  the  apartments, 
pending  the  serving  of  the  cafe  and  liqueurs.  The  prepa- 
ration of  the  mocha  was  somewhat  difficult,  seeing  the  uten- 
sils necessary  for  the  supply  of  so  large  a  company  were 
probably  not  at  hand,  and  the  ingredients  themselves  in  the 
store-rooms  of  the  palace.  Nothing  daunted,  one  of  the 
self-invited  guests  rose  and  said,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Permettez 
moi  d'offrir  le  cafe  a  la  compagnie,"  which  offer  was  re- 
ceived with  tumultuous  applause.  Suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  he  pulled  out  a  small  canvas  bag,  and  took  from  it 
two  five-franc  pieces.  "  Qu'on  aille  chercher  du  cafe  et  du 
meilleur,"  he  said  to  one  of  the  guests  who  had  stepped  for- 
ward to  execute  his  orders,  for  they  sounded  almost  like  it ; 
and  I  was  wondering  why  those  professed  champions  of 
equality  did  not  tell  him  to  fetch  the  coffee  himself.  Then 
he  added,  "  Et  pendant  que  tu  y  es,  citoyen,  apporte  des 
cigarres  pour  nous  et  des  cigarettes  pour  les  dames."  The 
"  citoyen "  was  already  starting  on  his  errand,  when  the 
other  "  citoyen  "  called  him  back.  "  Ecoute,"  he  said ;  "  tu 
n'acheteras  rien  a  moins  d'y  etre  force.  Je  crois  que  tu 
n'auras  qu'a  demander  a  la  premiere  epicerie  venue  ce  qu'il 
te  faut,  et  ainsi  au  premier  bureau  de  tabac.  lis  ont  si  peur, 
ces  sales  bourgeois  qu'ils  n'oseront  pas  te  refuser.  En  tout 
cas  prends  un  fusil ;  on  ne  salt  pas  ce  qui  pent  arriver  ;  mais 


228  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

ne  t'en  sers  pas  qu'en  cas  de  necessity : " — which  meant 
plainly  enough,  "  If  they  refuse  to  give  you  the  coffee  and 
the  tobacco,  shoot  them  down." 

Of  course,  I  am  unable  to  say  how  these  two  commodities 
were  eventually  procured  ;  but  I  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  this  messenger  had  only  "  to  ask  and  have,"  without  as 
much  as  showing  his  musket.  There  is  no  greater  cur  at 
troublous  times  than  the  Paris  shopkeeper.  The  merest 
urchin  will  terrify  him.  Even  on  the  previous  day  I  had 
seeu  bands  of  gamins  who  had  constituted  themselves  the 
guardians  of  the  barricades — and  there  was  one  in  nearly 
every  street — levy  toll  without  the  slightest  resistance,  when 
a  few  well-administered  cuffs  would  have  sent  them  flying, 
so  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  our  friend  had  all  the 
credit  of  his  generosity  without  disbursing  a  penny — unless 
his  delegate  fleeced  him  also,  on  the  theory  that  a  man  who 
could  "  fork  out "  ten  francs  at  a  moment's  notice  was 
nothing  more  or  less  than  a  bourgeois.  However,  when  I 
returned  after  about  forty  minutes'  absence,  it  was  very  evi- 
dent that  both  the  coffee  and  the  tobacco  had  arrived,  because 
the  Galerie  de  Diane,  large  as  it  was,  was  full  of  smoke,  and 
three  saucepans,  filled  with  water,  were  standing  on  the  fire, 
while  two  or  three  smaller  ones  were  arranged  on  the  almost 
priceless  marble  mantelpiece.  Another  batch  of  ravenous 
republicans  had  taken  their  seats  at  the  board,  their  predeces- 
sors whiling  the  time  away  in  sweet  converse  with  the  "  ladies." 
Some  of  the  latter  were  more  usefully  engaged ;  they  were 
rifling  the  cabinets  of  the  most  rare  and  valuable  Sevres,  and 
arranging  the  cups,  saucers,  platters  on  their  tops  to  be  ready 
for  the  beverage  that  was  being  brewed.  I  was  wondering 
how  they  had  got  at  these  art  treasures,  having  noticed  an 
hour  before  that  their  receptacles  were  locked  and  the  keys 
taken  away  The  doors  had  simply  been  battered  in  with  the 
hammer  of  the  great  clock  of  the  Tuileries. 

It  was  of  a  piece  with  the  wanton  destruction  I  had  wit- 
nessed elsewhere,  during  my  absence  from  the  Galerie  de 
Diane.  Before  I  returned  thither,  I  had  seen  the  portrait  of 
General  Bugeaud  in  the  Salle  des  Marechaux,  literally  stabbed 
with  bayonets ;  the  throne  treated  to  a  similar  fate,  and  car- 
ried off  to  the  Place  de  la  Bastille  to  be  burned  publicly  ;  the 
papers  of  the  royal  family  mercilessly  flung  to  the  winds ;  the 
dresses  of  the  princesses  torn  to  ribbons  or  else  put  on  the 
backs  of  the  vilest  of  the  Tile. 


THE  PROVISIONAL   GOVERNMENT.  229 

There  was  only  one  comic  incident  to  relieve  the  horror 
of  the  whole.  In  one  of  the  private  apartments  the  rabble 
had  come  upon  an  aged  parrot  screeching  at  the  top  of  its 
voice,  "  A  bas  Guizot ! "  The  bird  became  a  hero  there  and 
then,  and  was  absolutely  crammed  with  sweets  and  sugar. 
That  one  comic  note  was  not  enough  to  dispel  my  disgust, 
and  after  the  scene  in  the  Galerie  de  Diane  which  I  have 
just  described,  I  made  my  way  into  the  street. 

I  had  scarcely  proceeded  a  few  steps,  when  I  heard  the 
not  very  startling  news  that  the  republic  had  been  formally 
proclaimed  in  the  Chamber  by  M.  de  Lamartine,  who  had 
afterwards  repaired  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  At  the  same  time, 
people  were  shouting  that  the  King  had  died  suddenly.  I 
endeavoured  to  get  as  far,  but,  though  the  distance  was  cer- 
tainly not  more  than  half  a  mile,  it  took  me  more  than  an 
hour.  At  every  few  yards  my  progress  was  interrupted  by 
barricades,  the  self-elected  custodians  of  Avhich  were  particu- 
larly anxious  to  show  their  authority  to  a  man  like  myself, 
dressed  in  a  coat.  At  last  I  managed  to  get  to  the  corner  of 
the  Rues  des  Lombards  and  Saint-Martin,  and  just  in  time 
to  enjoy  a  sight  than  which  I  have  witnessed  nothing  more 
comic  during  the  succeeding  popular  uprisings  in  subsequent 
years.  I  was  just  crossing,  when  a  procession  hove  in  sight, 
composed  mainly  of  ragged  urchins,  dishevelled  women,  and 
riS-raff  of  both  sexes.  In  their  midst  was  an  individual  on 
horseback,  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  general  of  the  First 
Republic,  whom  they  were  cheering  loudly.  The  stationary 
crowd  made  way  for  them,  and  mingled  with  the  escort.  The 
moment  I  had  thrown  in  my  lot  with  the  latter,  retreat  was 
no  longer  possible,  and  in  a  very  short  time  I  found  myself  in 
the  courtyard  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and,  in  another  minute 
or  so,  in  the  principal  gallery  on  the  first  floor,  where,  it 
appears,  so77ie  members  of  the  Provisional  Government  were 
already  at  Avork.  I  had  not  the  remotest  notion  who  they 
were,  nor  did  I  care  to  inquire,  having  merely  come  to  look 
on.  The  work  of  the  members  of  the  Provisional  Government 
seemed  mainly  to  consist  in  consuming  enormous  quantities 
of  charcuterie  and  washing  them  down  with  copious  libations 
of  cheap  wine.  The  place  was  positively  reeking  with  the 
smell  of  both,  not  to  mention  the  fumes  of  tobacco.  Every 
one  was  smoking  his  hardest.  The  entrance  of  the  individual 
in  uniform  caused. somewhat  of  a  sensation ;  a  member — whom 
I  had  never  seen  before  and  whom  I  have  never  beheld  since 


230  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

— stepped  forward  to  ask  his  business.  The  new-comer  did 
not  appear  to  know  himself  ;  at  any  rate,  he  stammered  and 
stuttered,  but  his  escort  left  him  no  time  to  betray  his  con- 
fusion more  plainly.  "  C'est  le  citoyen  gouverneur  de  I'Hotel 
de  Viile,"  they  shouted  as  with  one  voice ;  and  there  and 
then  the  new  governor  was  installed,  though  I  am  perfectly 
sure  that  not  a  soul  of  all  those  present  knew  as  much  as  his 
name. 

Subsequent  inquiries  elicited  the  fact  that  the  man  was  a 
fourth  or  fifth-rate  singer,  named  Chateaurenaud,  and  en- 
gaged at  the  Opera  National  (formerly  the  Cirque  Olympique) 
on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple.  On  that  day  they  were  having 
a  dress  rehearsal  of  a  new  piece  in  which  Chateaurenaud  was 
playing  a  military  part.  He  had  just  donned  his  costume 
when,  hearing  a  noise  on  the  Boulevards,  he  put  his  head  out 
of  the  window.  The  mob  caught  sight  of  him.  "  A  general, 
a  general ! "  cried  several  urchins ;  and  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  tell,  the  theatre  was  invaded,  and  notwithstanding 
his  struggles,  Chateaurenaud  was  carried  off,  placed  on  horse- 
back, and  conducted  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where,  for  the 
next  fortnight,  he  throned  as  governor.  For,  curious  to  re- 
late, M.  de  Lamartine  ratified  his  appointment  (?)  on  the 
morning  of  the  25th  of  February.  Chateaurenaud  became 
an  oflScial  of  the  secret  police  during  the  Second  Empire.  I 
often  saw  him  on  horseback  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  when 
the  Emperor  drove  in  that  direction. 

I  did  not  stay  long  in  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  but  made  my 
way  back  to  the  Boulevards  as  best  I  could ;  for  by  that  time 
darkness  had  set  in,  and  the  mob  was  shouting  for  illumina- 
tions, and  obstructing  the  thoroughfares  everywhere.  Every 
now  and  then  one  came  upon  a  body  which  had  been  lying 
there  since  the  morning,  but  they  took  no  notice  of  it. 
Their  principal  concern  seemed  the  suitable  acknowledgment 
of  the  advent  of  the  Second  Kepublic  by  the  bourgeoisie  by 
means  of  coloured  devices,  or,  in  default  of  such,  by  coloured 
lamps  or  even  candles.  Woe  to  the  houses,  the  inhabitants 
of  which  remained  deaf  to  their  summons  to  that  effect.  In 
a  very  few  minutes  every  window  was  smashed  to  atoms, 
until  at  last  a  timid  hand  was  seen  to  arrange  a  few  bottles 
with  candles  stuck  into  them  on  the  sill,  and  light  them. 
Then  they  departed,  to  impose  their  will  elsewhere. 

That  night,  after  dinner,  the  first  person  of  my  acquaint- 
ance I  met  was  Mery.    He  had  been  in  the  Chamber  of 


WHY  LAMARTINE  MADE  A  REPUBLIC.  231 

Deputies  from  the  very  beginning  of  the  proceedings ;  it  was 
he  who  solemnly  assured  me  that  the  first  cry  of  "  Vive  la 
Republique  ! "  had  been  uttered  by  M.  de  Lamartine.  I  was 
surprised  at  this,  because  I  had  been  told  that  early  in  the 
morning  the  poet  had  paid  a  visit  to  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans 
to  assure  her  of  his  devotion  to  her  cause.  "  That  may  be 
so,"  said  Mery,  to  whom  I  repeated  what  I  had  heard ;  "  but 
you  must  remember  that  Lamartine  is  always  hard  up,  and 
closely  pursued  by  duns.  A  revolution  with  the  prospect  of 
becoming  president  of  the  republic  was  the  only  means  of 
staving  off  his  creditors.  He  clutched  at  it  as  a  last  re- 
source." 

Alexandre  Dumas  was  there  also,  but  I  have  an  idea  that 
he  would  have  willingly  passed  the  sponge  over  that  incident 
of  his  life,  for  I  never  could  get  him  to  talk  frankly  on  the 
subject.  This  does  not  mean  that  he  would  have  recanted 
his  republican  principles,  but  that  he  was  ashamed  at  having 
lent  his  countenance  to  such  a  republic  as  that.  I  fancy 
there  were  a  great  many  like  him. 


232  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Second  Eepublic — Lamartine's  reason  for  proclaiming  it — Suspects  Louis- 
Napoleon  of  similar  motives  for  wishing  to  overthrow  it — Tells  him  to  j^o 
bacK  to  England^De  Persigny's  account  of  Louis-Napoleon's  landing  ni 
France  after  February  24th,  '48 — Providential  interference  on  behalf  of 
Louis-Napoleon — Justification  of  Louis-Napoleon's  belief  in  his  "  star  " — 
My  first  meeting  with  him — The  origin  of  a  celebrated  nickname — Badin- 
guet  a  creation  of  Gavami — Louis-Napoleon  and  his  surroundings  at  the 
Hotel  du  Khin — His  appearance  and  dress — Lord  Nonnanby's  opinion  of 
his  appearance — Louis-Napoleon's  French — A  mot  of  Bismarck — Cavaignac, 
Thiers,  and  Victor  Hugo's  wrong  estimate  of  his  character — Cavaignac  and 
his  brother  Godefroi— The  difference  between  Thiers  and  General  Ca- 
vaignac— An  elector's  mot — Some  of  the  candidates  for  the  presidency  of  the 
Second  Republic — Electioneering  expenses — Impecuniosity  of  Louis-Napo- 
leon— A  story  in  connection  with  it — The  woman  with  the  wooden  legs — 
The  salons  durii^  the  Second  Kepublie — The  theatres  and  their  skits  on 
the  situation — "  La  Propri^te  c'est  le  Vol  "—France  governed  by  the  Na- 
tional— A  curious  list  of  ministers  and  officials  of  the  Second  Republic — 
Armand  Marrast — His  plans  for  reviving  business — His  receptions  at  the 
Palais-Bourbon  as  President  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies — Some  of  the 
guests — The  Corps  Diplomatique — The  new  deputies,  their  wives  and 
daughters. 

I  KifEW  Louis-Napoleon,  if  not  intimately,  at  least  very 
well,  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  I  felt  myself  as 
little  competent  to  give  an  opinion  on  him  on  the  last  as  on 
the  first  day  of  our  acquaintance.  I  feel  almost  certain  of 
one  thing,  though ;  that,  if  he  had  had  very  ample  means  of 
his  own,  the  Second  Empire  would  have  never  been.  Since 
its  fall  I  have  heard  and  read  a  great  deal  about  Louis-Napo- 
leon's unfaltering  belief  in  his  star ;  I  fancy  it  would  have 
shone  less  brightly  to  him  but  for  the  dark,  impenetrable 
sky  of  impecuniosity  in  which  it  was  set.  M§ry  said  that 
Lamartine  proclaimed  the  Second  Republic  as  a  means  of 
staving  off  his  creditors ;  and  the  accusation  was  justified  by 
Lamartine's  own  words  in  the  Assemblee  Nationale  itself  on 
the  11th  of  September,  1848  :  "  Je  declare  hautement  que  le 
24  Fevrier  a  midi,  je  ne  pensais  pas  a  la  Republique."  To 
use  a  popular  locution,  the  author  of  "  L'Histoire  des  Giron- 
dins  "  suspected,  perhaps,  that  Louis-Napoleon  might  take  a 


THE  SECOND  REPUBLIC.  233 

leaf  from  his,  the  author's,  book ;  for  the  needy  man,  though 
perhaps  not  a  better  psychologist  than  most  men,  has  a  very 
comprehensive  key  to  the  motives  of  a  great  number  of  his 
fellow-creatures,  especially  if  they  be  Frenchmen  and  pro- 
fessional politicians,  I  am  speaking  by  the  light  of  many 
years'  observation.  Furthermore,  the  pecuniary  embarrass- 
ments of  Louis-Napoleon  were  no  secret  to  any  one.  "  I 
have  established  a  republic  for  money's  sake,"  Lamartine  said 
to  himself;  "some  one  will  endeavour  to  overthrow  it  for 
money's  sake."  I  am  aware  that  this  is  not  a  very  elevated 
standard  whereby  to  judge  political  events ;  but  I  do  not  pro- 
fess to  be  an  historian — mine  is  only  the  little  huckster  shop 
of  history. 

It  is  more  than  probable  that  this  was  the  reason  why 
Lamartine  told  Louis-Napoleon  to  go  back  to  England,  in 
their  interview — a  secret  one — on  the  2d  of  March,  1848. 

It  was  M.  de  Persigny  who  told  me  this  many  years  after- 
wards. "  The  Prince  could  aiford  to  humour  De  Lamartine 
in  that  way,"  he  added,  "  for  if  ever  a  man  was  justified  in 
believing  in  his  star  it  was  he.  I'll  tell  you  a  story  which  is 
scarcely  known  to  half  a  dozen  men,  including  the  Emperor 
and  myself ;  I  am  not  aware  of  its  having  been  told  by  any 
biographer.  The  moment  we  ascertained  the  truth  of  the 
news  that  reached  us  from  Paris,  we  made  for  the  coast,  and, 
on  Saturday  morning,  we  crossed  in  the  mail-packet.  It  was 
very  rough,  and  we  had  a  good  shaking,  so  that  when  we  got 
to  Boulogne  we  were  absolutely  '  done  up.'  But  we  heard 
that  a  train  was  to  start  for  Paris,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  Prince  would  not  lose  a  minute.  We  had  to  walk  to 
Neufchatel,  about  three  miles  distant,  because  there  was 
something  the  matter  with  the  rails,  I  do  not  know  what. 
We  flung  ourselves  into  the  first  compartment,  which  already 
contained  two  travellers.  Almost  immediately  we  had  got 
under  weigh,  one  of  these,  who  had  looked  very  struck  when 
we  entered,  addressed  the  Prince  by  name.  He  turned  out  to 
be  Monsieur  Biesta,  who  had  paid  a  visit  to  Napoleon  during 
his  imprisonment  at  Ham,  and  who  immediately  recognized 
him.  Monsieur  Biesta  had  just  left  the  Due  de  Nemours. 
I  do  not  know  whether  he  was  at  that  time  a  Republican,  a 
Monarchist,  or  an  Imperialist,  but  he  was  a  man  of  honour, 
and  it  was  thanks  to  him  that  the  son  of  Louis- Philippe 
made  his  escape.  The  other  one  was  the  Marquis  d'Arragon, 
who  died  about  a  twelvemonth  afterwards.     All  went  well 


234:  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

until  we  got  to  Amiens,  where  we  had  to  wait  a  very  long 
while,  the  train  which  was  to  have  taken  us  on  to  Paris  hav- 
ing just  left.  For  once  in  a  way  the  Prince  got  impatient. 
He  who  on  the  eve  of  the  Coup  d'Etat  remained,  at  any  rate 
outwardly,  perfectly  stolid,  was  fuming  and  fretting  at  the 
delay.  One  would  have  thought  that  the  whole  of  Paris  was 
waiting  at  the  Northern  station  to  receive  him  with  open 
arms,  and  to  proclaim  him  Emperor  there  and  then.  But 
impatient  or  not,  we  had  to  wait,  and,  what  was  worse  or  bet- 
ter, the  train  that  finally  took  us  came  to  a  dead  stop  at 
Persan,  where  the  news  reached  us  that  the  rails  had  been 
broken  up  by  the  insurgents  at  Pontoise,  that  a  frightful  ac- 
cident had  happened  in  consequence  to  the  train  we  had 
missed  by  a  few  minutes  at  Amiens,  in  which  at  least  thirty 
lives  were  lost,  besides  a  great  number  of  wounded.  But  for 
the  merest  chance  we  should  have  been  among  the  passen- 
gers. Was  I  right  in  saying  that  the  Prince  was  justified  in 
believing  in  his  star  ?  " 

I  did  not  meet  with  Louis-lSTapoleon  until  he  was  a  candi- 
date for  the  presidency  of  the  Second  Republic,  and  while  he 
was  staying  at  the  Hotel  du  Ehin  in  the  Place  Vendome.  Of 
course,  I  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  him,  but  my  inform- 
ants, to  a  man,  were  English.  While  the  latter  were  almost 
unanimous  in  predicting  Louis-Napoleon's  eventual  advent 
to  the  throne,  the  French,  though  in  no  way  denying  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Napoleonic  legend,  were  apt  to  shrug  their 
shoulders  more  or  less  contemptuously  at  the  pretensions  of 
Hortense's  son ;  for  few  ever  designated  him  by  any  other 
name,  until  later  on,  when  the  nickname  of  "Badinguet" 
began  to  be  on  every  one's  lips.  Consequently,  I  was  anxious 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  him ;  but  before  noting  the  impressions 
produced  by  that  first  meeting,  I  will  devote  a  few  lines  to  the 
origin  of  that  celebrated  sobriquet. 

Personally,  I  never  heard  it  in  connection  with  Louis- 
Napoleon  until  his  betrothal  to  Mdlle.  Eugenie  de  Montijo 
became  common  "  talk ; "  but  I  had  heard  and  seen  it  in 
print  a  good  many  years  before,  and  even  as  late  as  '48. 
There  was,  however,  not  the  slightest  attempt  at  that  time 
to  couple  it  with  the  person  of  the  future  Emperor.  Three 
solutions  have  made  the  round  of  the  papers  at  various 
times :  (1)  that  it  was  the  name  of  the  stonemason  or  brick- 
layer who  lent  Louis-Napoleon  his  clothes  to  facilitate  his 
escape  from  Ham  in  June,  1845  ;  (2)  tha,t  it  was  the  name  of 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  AN  HISTORIC  NICKNAME.         235 

the  soldier  who  was  wounded  by  the  Prince  on  the  5th  of 
August,  1840,  at  Boulogne,  when  the  latter  fired  on  Captain 
Col-Puygellier ;  (3)  that  about  the  latter  end  of  the  forties  a 
pipe-manufacturer  introduced  a  pipe,  the  head  of  which  re- 
sembled that  of  Louis-Napoleon,  and  that  the  pipemaker's 
name  was  Badinguet. 

The  latter  solution  may  be  dismissed  at  once  as  utterly 
without  foundation.  With  regard  to  that  having  reference 
to  the  stonemason,  no  stonemason  lent  Louis-Napoleon  his 
clothes.  The  disguise  was  provided  by  Dr.  Conneau  from  a 
source  which  has  never  been  revealed.  There  was,  moreover, 
no  stonemason  of  tlie  name  of  Badinguet  at  Ham,  and,  when 
Louis- Napoleon  crossed  the  drawbridge  of  the  castle,  his  face 
partially  hidden  by  a  board  he  was  carrying  on  his  shoulder, 
a  workman,  who  mistook  him  for  one  of  his  mates,  exclaimed, 
"  Hullo,  there  goes  Bertoux."     Bertoux,  not  Badinguet. 

The  name  of  the  soldier  wounded  by  Louis-Napoleon  was 
Geoffroy ;  he  was  a  grenadier,  decorated  on  the  battle-field ; 
and  shortly  after  Napoleon's  accession  to  the  throne,  he 
granted  him  a  pension.  There  can  be  no  possible  mistake 
about  the  name,  seeing  that  it  was  attested  at  the  trial  subse- 
quent to  the  fiasco  before  the  Court  of  Peers. 

The  real  fact  is  this :  Gavarni,  like  Balzac,  invented  many 
names,  suggested  in  many  instances  by  those  of  their  friends 
and  acquaintances,  or  sometimes  merely  altered  from  those 
they  had  seen  on  signboards.  The  great  caricaturist  had  a 
friend  in  the  Departement  des  Landes  named  Badingo ;  about 
'38  he  began  his  sketches  of  students  and  their  companions 
("Etudiants  et  Etudiantes  "),  and  in  one  of  them  a  medical 
student  shows  his  lady-love  an  articulated  skeleton. 

"  Look  at  this,"  says  the  former ;  "  this  is  Eugenie,  the 
former  sweetheart  of  Badinguet — that  tall,  fair  girl  who  was 
so  fond  of  meringues.  He  has  had  her  mounted  for  thirty- 
six  francs." 

The  connection  is  very  obvious ;  it  only  wanted  one  single 
wag  to  remember  the  skit  when  Napoleon  became  engaged  to 
Eugenie  de  Montijo.  He  set  the  ball  rolling,  and  the  rest 
followed  as  a  matter  of  course. 

At  the  same  time,  Gavarni  had  not  been  half  as  original, 
as  he  imagined,  in  the  invention  of  the  name.  Badinguet 
was  a  character  in  a  one-act  farce  entitled  "  Le  Mobilier  de 
Eosine,"  played  for  the  first  time  in  1828,  at  the  Theatre 
Montansier ;  and  there  is  a  piece  of  an  earlier  date  even,  in 


236  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

which  Grassot  played  a  character  by  the  name  of  Badinguet. 
In  1848,  there  was  a  kind  of  Jules  Vernesque  piece  at  the 
Porte  Saint-Martin,  in  which  Badinguet,  a  Parisian  shop- 
keeper, starts  with  his  wife  Euphemie  for  some  distant  isl- 
and. 

To  return  to  Louis-Napoleon  at  the  Hotel  du  Ehin,  and 
my  first  glimpse  of  him.  I  must  own  that  I  was  disappoint- 
ed with  it.  Though  I  had  not  the  slightest  ground  for  ex- 
pecting to  see  a  fine  man,  I  did  not  expect  to  see  so  utterly 
an  insignificant  one,  and  badly  dressed  in  the  bargain.  On 
the  evening  in  question,  he  wore  a  brown  coat  of  a  peculiar 
colour,  a  green  plush  waistcoat,  and  a  pair  of  yellowish 
trousers,  the  like  of  which  I  have  never  seen  on  the  legs  of 
any  one  off  the  stage.  And  yet  Lord  Normanby,  and  a  good 
many  more  who  have  said  that  he  looked  every  inch  a  king, 
were  not  altogether  wrong.  There  was  a  certain  gracefulness 
about  him  which  owed  absolutely  nothing  either  to  his  tailor, 
his  barber,  or  his  bootmaker.  "The  gracefulness  of  awk- 
wardness "  sounds  remarkably  like  an  Irish  bull,  yet  I  can 
find  no  other  term  to  describe  his  gait  and  carriage.  Louis- 
Napoleon's  legs  seemed  to  have  been  an  after-thought  of  his 
Creator — they  were  too  short  for  his  body,  and  his  head  ap- 
peared constantly  bent  down,  to  supervise  their  motion ;  con- 
sequently, their  owner  was  always  at  a  disadvantage  when 
compelled  to  make  use  of  them.  But  when  standing  still,  or 
on  horseback,  there  was  an  indescribable  something  about 
the  man  which  at  once  commanded  attention.  I  am  not 
overlooking  the  fact  that,  on  the  occasion  of  our  first  meet- 
ing, my  curiosity  had  been  aroused;  but  I  doubt  whether 
any  one,  endowed  with  the  smallest  power  of  observation, 
though  utterly  ignorant  with  regard  to  his  previous  history, 
and  equally  sceptical  with  regard  to  his  future  destiny,  could 
have  been  in  his  company  for  any  length  of  time  without  be- 
ing struck  with  his  appearance. 

"When  I  entered  the  apartment  on  the  evening  in  ques- 
tion, Louis-Napoleon  was  leaning  in  his  favourite  attitude 
against  the  mantelpiece,  smoking  the  scarcely  ever  absent 
cigarette,  and  pulling  at  the  heavy  brown  moustache,  the 
ends  of  which  in  those  days  were  not  waxed  into  points  as 
they  were  later  on.  There  was  not  the  remotest  likeness  to 
any  portrait  of  the  Bonaparte  family  I  had  ever  seen.  He 
wore  his  thin,  lank  hair  much  longer  than  he  did  afterwards. 
The  most    startling  features  were  decidedly  the  aquiline 


LOUIS-NAPOLEON'S  FRENCH.  237 

nose  and  the  eyes ;  the  latter,  of  a  greyish-blue,  were  com- 
paratively small  and  somewhat  almond-shaped,  but,  except  at 
rare  intervals,  there  was  an  impenetrable  look,  which  made  it 
exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  read  their  owner's 
thoughts  by  them.  If  they  were  "  the  windows  of  his  soul," 
their  blinds  were  constantly  down.  The  "  I  am  pleased  to 
see  you,  sir,"  with  which  he  welcomed  me,  holding  out  his 
hand  at  the  same  time,*  was  the  English  of  an  educated 
German  who  had  taken  great  pains  to  get  the  right  accent 
and  pronunciation,  without,  however,  completely  succeeding ; 
and  when  I  heard  him  speak  French,  I  detected  at  once  his 
constant  struggle  with  the  same  difficulties.  The  struggle 
lasted  till  the  very  end  of  his  life,  though,  by  dint  of  speak- 
ing very  slowly,  he  overcame  them  to  a  marvellous  extent. 
But  the  moment  he  became  in  any  way  excited,  the/'s  and 
the  ^'s  and  the  jo's  were  always  trying  to  oust  the  v's,  the  ^'s 
and  the  J's  from  their  newly-acquired  positions,  and  often 
gained  a  momentary  victory.  There  is  an  amusing  story  to 
that  effect,  in  connection  with  Napoleon's  first  interview 
with  Bismarck.  I  will  not  vouch  for  its  truth,  but,  on  the 
face  of  it,  it  sounds  blunt  enough  to  be  genuine.  The  Em- 
peror was  complimenting  the  German  statesman  on  his 
French. 

"  M.  de  Bismarck,  I  have  never  heard  a  German  speak 
French  as  you  do,"  said  Napoleon. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  return  the  compliment,  sire  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  have  never  heard  a  Frenchman  speak  French  as  you 
do."* 

"When  Prince  Louis-Xapoleon  held  out  his  hand  and  I 
looked  into  his  face,  I  felt  almost  tempted  to  put  him  down 
as  an  opium-eater.  Ten  minutes  afterwards,  I  felt  convinced 
that,  to  use  a  metaphor,  he  himself  was  the  drug,  and  that 
every  one  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  was  bound  to  yield 
to  its  influence.  When  I  came  away  that  evening,  I  could 
have  given  Cavaignac,  Thiers,  Lamartine,  Hugo,  and  the 
rest,  who  wanted  to  make  a  cat's-paw  of  him,  a  timely  warn- 
ing, if  they  would  have  condescended  to  listen  to,  and  profit 

*  In  the  documents  relatinar  to  the  affair  at  Strasburg,  there  is  the  report  to 
Louis- Philippe  by  an  officer  in  the  4Gth  regiment  of  the  line,  named  Pleim^, 
in  which  the  latter,  borrowing  the  process  of  Balzac  as  applied  to  the  Frencli  of 
the  Baron  de  Nucinirea,  credits  Louis-Napoleon  with  tlio  following  phrase: 
"  Fovs Stes  tecore  de  GliuiUet  ;fous  tefez  etre  nn prqfe,  che  vqus  f^wr^."— Editor. 


238  -A.N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

by  it,  which  I  am  certain  they  would  not  have  done.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  every  one  of  these  men,  and,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one,  all  undoubtedly  clever,  thought  Louis-Napoleon 
either  an  imbecile  or  a  secret  drunkard.  And,  what  is 
more,  they  endeavoured  to  propagate  their  opinion  through- 
out the  length  and  breadth,  not  only  of  France,  but  of 
Europe. 

As  usual,  the  one  who  was  really  the  greatest  nonentity 
among  the  latter  was  most  lavish  in  his  contempt.  I  am 
alluding  to  General  Cavaignac  The  nobodies  who  have 
governed  or  misgoverned  France  since  the  Fall  of  Sedan 
were,  from  an  intellectual  point  of  view,  eagles  compared  to 
that  surly  and  bumptious  drill-sergeant,  who  had  nothing, 
absolutely  nothing,  to  recommend  him  for  the  elevated  posi- 
tion he  coveted.  He  was  the  least  among  all  those  brilliant 
African  soldiers  whose  names  and  prowess  were  on  every 
one's  lips ;  he  had  really  been  made  a  hero  of,  at  so  much 
per  line,  by  the  staff  of  the  National,  where  his  brother 
Godef roy  wielded  unlimited  power.  He  was  all  buckram ; 
and,  in  the  very  heart  of  Paris,  and  in  the  midst  of  that 
republic  whose  fiercest  watchword,  whose  loudest  cry,  was 
"  equality,"  he  treated  partisans  and  opponents  alike,  as  he 
would  have  treated  a  batch  of  refractory  Arabs  in  a  distant 
province  of  that  newly-conquered  African  soil.  He  disliked 
every  one  who  did  not  wear  a  uniform,  and  assumed  a  critical 
attitude  towards  every  one  who  did.  His  republicanism  was 
probably  as  sincere  as  that  of  Thiers — it  meant  "  La  Repu- 
blique  c'est  moi : "  with  this  difference,  that  Thiers  was  ami- 
able, witty,  and  charming,  though  treacherous,  and  that 
Cavaignac  was  the  very  reverse.  His  honesty  was  beyond 
suspicion ;  that  is,  he  felt  convinced  that  he  was  the  only 
possible  saviour  of  France :  but  it  was  impaired  by  his  equally 
sincere  conviction  that  bribery  and  coercion — of  cajoling  he 
would  have  none — ^were  admissible,  nay,  incumbent  to  attain 
that  end.  "  Thiers,  c'est  la  republique  en  ecureuil,  Cavai- 
gnac c'est  la  republique  en  ours  mal  leche,"  said  a  witty 
journalist.  He  and  Louis-Napoleon  were  virtually  the  two 
men  who  were  contending  for  the  presidential  chair,  and  the 
chances  of  Cavaignac  may  be  judged  by  the  conclusion  of 
the  verbal  report  of  one  of  Lamoriciere's  emissaries,  who 
canvassed  one  of  the  departments. 

" '  The  thing  might  be  feasible,'  said  an  elector,  '  if  your 
general's  name  was  Genevieve  de  Brabant,  or  that  of  one  of 


HIS  RIVALS  FOR  THE  PRESIDENTSHIP.  239 

the  four  sons  of  Aymon.*  But  his  name  is  simply  Cavaignac 
— Cavaignac,  and  that's  all.  I  prefer  Napoleon ;  at  any  rate, 
there  is  a  ring  about  that  name.'  And  I  am  afraid  that 
eleven-twelfths  of  the  electors  are  of  the  same  opinion." 

As  for  Ledru  Rollin,  Raspail,  Changarnier,  and  even  La- 
martine  and  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  some  of  whom  were  candi- 
dates against  their  will,  they  were  out  of  the  running  from  the 
very  start,  though,  curiously  enough,  the  son  of  the  monarch 
whom  the  republic  had  driven  from  the  throne  obtained 
more  votes  than  the  man  who  had  proclaimed  that  republic. 
These  votes  were  altogether  discarded  as  unconstitutional, 
though  one  really  fails  to  see  why  one  member  of  a  preceding 
dynasty  should  have  been  held  to  be  more  eligible  than 
another.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  votes  polled  by  the  sailor 
prince  amounted  to  over  twenty-three  thousand,  showing 
that  he  enjoyed  a  certain  measure  of  popularity.  It  is  doubt- 
ful whether  the  Due  d'Aumale  or  the  Due  de  Nemours  would 
have  obtained  a  fifth  of  that  number.  As  I  have  already  said, 
the  latter  was  disliked  by  his  father's  opponents  for  his  sus- 
pected legitimist  tendencies,  and  tacitly  blamed  by  some  of 
the  partisans  of  the  Orleanist  regime  for  his  lack  of  resistance 
on  the  24th  of  February ;  the  former's  submission  "  to  the 
will  of  the  nation,"  as  embodied  in  a  manifesto  "  to  the  in- 
habitants of  Algeria,"  provoked  no  enthusiasm  either  among 
friends  or  foes.f  Perhaps  public  rumour  was  not  altogether 
wrong,  when  it  averred  that  the  D'Orleans  were  too  tight- 
fisted  to  spend  their  money  in  electioneering  literature.  The 
expense  involved  in  that  item  was  a  terrible  obstacle  to  Louis- 
Napoleon  and  his  few  faithful  henchmen ;  for,  though  the 
Napoleonic  idea  was  pervading  all  classes  of  society,  there 
waSj  correctly  speaking,  no  Bonapartist  party  to  shape  it  for 
the  practical  purposes  of  the  moment.  The  Napoleonic  idea 
was  a  fond  remembrance  of  France's  glorious  past,  rather 
than  a  hope  of  its  renewal  in  the  future.  Even  the  greatest 
number  of  the  most  ardent  worshippers  of  that  marvellous 
soldier  of  fortune,  doubted  whether  his  nephew  was  suffi- 
ciently popular  to  obtain  an  appreciable  following,  and  those 
who  did  not  doubt  were  mostly  poor.     While  Dufaure  and 

*  The  four  kniorhts  of  a  Carlovingian  legend,  who  were  mounted  on  one 
horse  named  Bayard. — Editor, 

t  During  the  sacking  of  the  Tuileries,  the  mob  ruthlessly  destroyed  the 
busts  and  pictures  of  every  living  son  of  Louis-Philippe,  with  the  exception  of 
those  of  the  Prince  de  Joinville.— Editok. 


240  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Lamoriciere  were  scattering  money  broadcast,  and  using 
pressure  of  the  most  arbitrary  kind,  in  order  to  insure  Cavai- 
gnac's  success,  Louis-Napoleon  and  his  knot  of  partisans  Avere 
absolutely  reduced  to  their  own  personal  resources.  Miss 
Howard — afterwards  Comtesse  de  Beauregard — and  Princesse 
Mathilde  had  given  all  they  could ;  a  small  loan  was  obtained 
from  M.  Fould  ;  and  some  comparatively  scanty  supplies  had 
been  forthcoming  from  England — it  was  said  at  the  time, 
with  how  much  truth  I  know  not,  that  Lords  Palmerston  and 
Malmesbury  had  contributed  :  but  the  exchequer  was  virtu- 
ally empty.  A  stray  remittance  of  a  few  thousand  francs, 
from  an  altogether  unexpected  quarter,  and  most  frequently 
from  an  anonymous  sender,  arrived  now  and  then ;  but  it 
was  what  the  Germans  call  "  a  drop  of  water  in  a  very  hot 
frying-pan ; "  it  barely  sufficed  to  stop  a  hole.  Money  was 
imperatively  wanted  for  the  printing  of  millions  upon  millions 
of  handbills,  thousands  and  thousands  of  posters,  and  their 
distribution;  for  the  expenses  of  canvassers,  electioneering 
agents,  and  so  forth.  The  money  went  to  the  latter,  the  rest 
was  obtained  on  credit.  Prince  Louis,  confident  of  success, 
emptied  his  pockets  of  the  last  five-franc  pieces ;  when  he 
had  no  more,  he  promised  to  pay.  He  was  as  badly  off  as 
his  famous  uncle  before  the  turn  of  fortune  came. 

In  connection  with  this  dire  impecuniosity,  I  remember  a 
story  for  the  truth  of  which  I  can  vouch  as  if  I  had  had  it 
from  Louis-Napoleon's  own  lips.  In  front  of  Siraudin's  con- 
fectioner's shop  at  the  angle  of  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines 
and  the  Eue  de  la  Paix,  there  sits  an  old  woman  with  two 
wooden  legs.  About  '48,  when  she  was  very  pretty  and 
dressed  with  a  certain  coquettishness,  she  was  already  there, 
though  sitting  a  little  higher  up,  in  front  of  the  wall  of  the 
Ministry  for  Foreign  Affairs,  which  has  since  made  room  for 
the  handsome  establishment  of  Giroux.  Behind  her,  on  the 
wall,  were  suspended  for  sale  some  cheap  and  not  very  ar- 
tistically executed  reproductions  of  Fragonard,  "  Le  Coucher 
de  la  Mariee,"  etc.,  all  of  which  would  fetch  high  prices 
now ;  also  songs,  the  tunes  of  which  she  played  with  great 
taste  on  her  violin.  It  was  reported  that  she  had  been  killed 
during  the  attack  on  the  ministry,  but  to  people's  great  sur- 
prise she  reappeared  a  few  days  afterwards.  Prince  Louis, 
who  was  staying  at  the  Place  Vendome,  then  used  to  take  a 
short  cut  by  the  Kue  Neuve  des  Capucines  to  the  Boulevards, 
and  it  seems  that  he  never  passed  her  without  giving  her 


PARIS  UNDER  THE  SECOND  REPUBLIC.  241 

something.  In  a  few  weeks  she  came  to  look  upon  his  con- 
tributions as  a  certain  part  of  her  income.  She  knew  who 
he  was,  and,  curiously  enough,  seemed  to  be  aware  not  only 
of  his  political  preoccupations,  but  of  his  pecuniary  embar- 
rassments. I  am  unable  to  say  whether  she  was  in  sympathy 
with  the  former,  but  she  was  evidently  concerned  about  the 
latter ;  for,  one  evening,  after  thanking  Louis-Napoleon,  she 
added,  "  Monseigneur,  je  voudrais  vous  dire  un  mot." 

"  Parlez,  madame." 

"  On  me  dit  que  vous  6tes  fort  gene  dans  ce  moment. 
J'ai  trois  billets  de  mille  francs  chez  moi,  qui  ne  font  rien. 
Voulez-vous  me  permettre  de  vous  les  offrir ;  vous  me  les 
rendrez  quand  vous  serez  empereur." 

Prince  Louis  did  not  accept  them,  but  he  never  forgot  a 
kindness,  and  when  he  did  become  Emperor,  he  offered  her 
a  small  annuity.  The  answer  was  characteristic  of  her  inde- 
pendence. "  Dites  d  I'empereur  qu'il  est  bien  bon  de  se  rap- 
peler  de  moi,  mais  je  ne  puis  pas  accepter  son  offre.  S'il 
avait  accepte  mon  argent,  je  ne  dis  pas,  maintenant,  non." 
And  while  I  am  writing  these  notes,  she  still  sits  in  her  usual 
place,  though  I  have  heard  it  said  more  than  once  that  she 
is  the  owner  of  one  or  two  houses  in  the  Avenue  de  I'Opera, 
and  that  she  gave  a  considerable  marriage  portion  to  her 
daughter,  who  has  remained  ignorant  of  the  sources  of  her 
mother's  income,  who  was  educated  in  the  country,  and  has 
never  been  to  Paris.  One  of  the  conditions  of  her  marriage 
was  that  she  should  emigrate  to  Australia.  For  the  latter 
part  of  the  story,  I  will,  however,  not  vouch. 

During  the  months  of  October  and  November,  '48,  I  saw 
Prince  Louis  at  least  a  dozen  times,  though  only  once  away 
from  his  own  apartments.  There  was  really  "  nowhere  to 
go,"  for  most  of  the  salons  had  closed  their  doors,  and  those 
which  remained  open  were  invaded  by  political  partisans  of 
all  shades.  Conversation,  except  on  one  topic,  there  was 
little  or  none.  Social  entertainments  were  scarcely  to  be 
thought  of  after  the  bloody  disorders  in  June :  Paris  trade 
suffered  in  consequence,  and  the  whole  of  the  shop-keeping 
element,  which  virtually  constituted  the  greater  part  of  the 
Garde  Nationale,  regretted  the  fall  of  the  Orleans  dynasty  to 
which  it  had  so  materially  contributed.  After  these  disor- 
ders in  June,  the  troops  bivouacked  for  a  whole  month  on 
the  Boulevards ;  on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple  with  its  seven 
theatres ;  on  the  Boulevard  Poissonniere,  almost  in  front  of 
11 


242  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  Gymnase ;  on  the  Boulevard  Mohtmartre,  in  front  of  the 
Varietes ;  on  the  Place  de  la  Bourse,  in  front  of  the  Vaude- 
ville. The  new  masters  did  not  care  to  be  held  up  to  ridi- 
cule ;  they  insinuated,  rather  than  asserted,  that  the  insults 
levelled  from  the  stage  had  contributed  to  the  insurrection ; 
and  seeing  that  the  bourgeoisie,  very  contrite  already,  did 
not  care  to  hear  "  the  praise  of  the  saviours  of  the  country  " 
by  command,  they  deserted  the  play-houses  and  kept  their 
money  in  their  pockets.  The  Constituent  Assembly  was 
compelled  to  grant  the  managers  an  indemnity ;  but,  as  it 
could  not  keep  the  soldiers  there  for  ever,  and  as  it  cared  still 
less  to  vote  funds  to  its  enemies  while  its  supporters  were 
clamouring  for  every  cent  of  it,  the  strict  supervision  gradu- 
ally relaxed.  The  first  to  take  advantage  of  this  altered  state 
of  things  was  Clairville,  with  his  "  La  Propriete  c'est  le  Vol " 
(November  28,  '48),  a  skit  on  the  celebrated  phrase  of  Proud- 
hon.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  latter  had  uttered  it  in 
the  sense  with  which  the  playwright  invested  it ;  but  fear  is 
proverbially  illogical,  and  every  one  in  Paris  ran  to  see  the 
piece,  trusting  probably  that  it  might  produce  a  salutary 
effect  on  those  who  intended  to  take  the  philosopher's  axiom 
literally, 

"  La  Propriety  c'est  le  Vol  "  was  described  on  the  bills  as 
"  a  socialistic  extravaganza  in  three  acts  and  seven  tableaux." 
The  scene  of  the  first  tableau  represents  the  garden  of  Eden. 
The  Serpent,  who  is  the  Evil  Spirit,  declares  war  at  once 
upon  Adam,  who  embodies  the  principle  of  Property.  The 
Serpent  was  a  deliberate  caricature  of  Proudhon  with  his 
large  spectacles. 

In  the  subsequent  tableaux,  Adam,  by  a  kind  of  metem- 
psychosis, had  been  changed  into  Bonichon,  an  owner  of 
house  property  in  the  Paris  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The 
Serpent,  though  still  wearing  his  spectacles,  had  been  equally 
transformed  into  a  modern  opponent  of  all  property.  We 
are  in  February,  '48.  Bonichon  and  some  of  his  fellow-bour- 
geois are  feasting  in  honor  of  the  proposed  measures  of  reform, 
when  they  are  scared  out  of  their  wits  by  the  appearance  of 
the  Serpent,  who  informs  them  that  the  Republic  has  sidled 
up  to  Reform,  managed  to  hide  itself  beneath  its  cloak,  and 
been  proclaimed.  The  next  scene  brings  us  to  the  year  1852 
(four  years  in  advance  of  the  period),  when  the  right  of 
every  one  to  live  by  the  toil  of  his  hands  has  become  law. 
Bonichon  is  being  harassed   and  persecuted  by  a  crowd  of 


A  SATIRICAL  PLAY.  243 

handicraftsmen  and  others,  who  insist  on  working  for  him 
whether  he  likes  it  or  not.  The  glazier  smashes  his  windows, 
in  order  to  compel  him  to  have  new  panes  put  in.  The  paper- 
hanger  tears  the  paper  off  his  walls  on  the  same  principle.  The 
hackney  coachman  flings  Bonichon  into  his  cab,  takes  him 
for  a  four  hours'  drive,  and  charges  accordingly.  A  dentist 
imitates  the  tactics  of  Peter  the  Great  with  his  courtiers, 
forces  him  into  a  chair  and  operates  upon  his  grinders,  though, 
unlike  Peter,  he  claims  the  full  fee.  A  dozen  or  so  of  modistes 
and  dressmakers  invade  his  apartments  with  double  the  num- 
ber of  gowns  for  Madame  Eve  Bonichon,  who,  the  reverse  of 
her  husband,  does  not  object  to  this  violent  appeal  for  her 
custom.  Perhaps  Madame  Octave,  a  charming  woman  who 
played  the  part,  did  well  to  submit,  because  during  the  first 
tableau,  the  audience,  though  by  no  means  squeamish,  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  Madame  Eve  would  be  all  the 
better  for  a  little  more  clothing. 

And  so  the  piece  goes  on.  The  first  performance  took 
place  twelve  days  before  the  presidential  election,  when 
Cavaignac  was  still  at  the  head  of  affairs.  Notwithstanding 
his  energetic  suppression  of  the  disorders  in  June,  every  one, 
with  the  exception  of  the  journalistic  swashbucklers  of  Le 
National,  hoped  to  get  rid  of  him ;  and  a  song  aimed  at  him 
cruelly  dissected  his  utter  insignificance  from  a  mental, 
moral,  and  political  point  of  view.  When  Louis-Napoleon 
gained  the  day,  the  song  was  changed  for  a  more  kindly 
one. 

It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  during  those  days  France 
was  absolutely  governed  by  the  National.  I  made  a  list,  by 
no  means  complete,  at  the  time,  of  the  various  appointments 
and  high  places  that  had  fallen  to  the  members  of  the  staff 
and  those  connected  with  it  financially  and  otherwise.  I 
have  kept  it,  and  transcribe  it  here  with  scarcely  any  com- 
ment. 

Armand  Marrast,  the  editor,  became  a  member  of  the 
Provisional  Government,  Mayor  of  Paris,  and  subsequently 
President  of  the  National  Assembly. 

Marrast  (No.  2)  became  Procureur- General  at  Pau. 

Marrast  (No.  3),  who  had  been  a  captain  of  light  horse 
during  the  reign  of  Louis-Philippe,  was  given  a  colonelcy 
unattached. 

Marrast  (No.  4)  became  Vice  -  Principal  of  the  Lycee 
Corneille. 


24:4:  AN  ENGLISHMAN    IN   PARIS. 

Bastide,  one  of  the  staff,  became  Minister  for  Foreign 
Affairs. 

Vaulabelle,  one  of  the  staff,  became  Minister  of  Public 
Education. 

Goudchaux,  the  banker  of  the  Naiioiial^  became  Minister 
of  Finances. 

Eecurt,  the  chief  physician  to  the  staff,  became  Minister 
of  the  Interior  and  subsequently  Minister  of  Public  Works 
(President  of  the  Board  of  Works). 

Trelat,  another  physician,  became  Minister  of  Public 
Works. 

Marie,  the  solicitor  to  the  National.^  became  a  member 
of  the  Prorisional  Government,  a  member  of  the  Ex- 
ecutive Committee,  and  subsequently  Minister  of  Jus- 
tice. 

Genin,  one  of  the  staff,  became  chief  of  the  literary  de- 
partment at  the  Ministry  of  Public  Education. 

Charras,  one  of  the  staff,  became  Under-Secretary  of  State, 
at  the  Ministry  for  War. 

Degouve-Denuncques,  one  of  the  staff,  became  Prefect  of 
the  Department  of  the  Somme. 

Buchez,  third  physician  and  an  occasional  contributor,  be- 
came Deputy  Mayor  of  Paris  and  subsequently  President  of 
the  Assembly  up  to  the  15th  of  May  (  when  he  had  to 
make  room  for  M.  Armand  Marrast  himself).  As  will  be 
seen,  within  a  month  of  the  republicans'  advent  to  power, 
M.  Buchez  had  been  raised  to  one  of  the  highest  functions 
in  the  State,  though  absolutely  devoid  of  any  political  or 
parliamentary  talent,  as  was  shown  later  on  by  his  "  Histoire 
Parlementaire  de  la  Kevolution  Fran9aise,"  an  utterly  com- 
monplace production. 

Dussart,  one  of  the  staff,  became  Prefect  of  the  Seine- 
Inferieure. 

Adam,  one  of  the  staff,  became  Chief  Secretary  of  the 
Prefecture  of  the  Seine. 

Sain  de  Bois-le  Comte,  one  of  the  staff,  became  minister 
plenipotentiary  at  Turin. 

Felicien  Mallefille,  one  of  the  staff,  became  minister 
plenipotentiary  at  Lisbon. 

Anselme  Pet6tin,  one  of  the  staff,  became  minister  pleni- 
potentiary at  Hanover. 

Auguste  Petetin  (  his  brother  j,  one  of  the  staff,  became 
Prefect  of  the  Department  of  the  C6te-d'0r. 


A  CURIOUS  LIST  OP  MINISTERS.  246 

Frederic  Lacroix,  one  of  the  staS,  became  chief  secre- 
tary for  civil  affairs  in  Algeria. 

Hetzel,  one  of  the  staff,  became  chief  secretary  to  the 
Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs. 

Rousset,  one  of  the  staff,  became  Prefect  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Loire. 

Duclerc,  shorthand  reporter,  became  for  a  little  while 
Minister  of  Finances. 

Pagnerre,  publisher  of  the  Wafional,  and  bookseller,  be- 
came a  mayor,  a  member  of  the  Provisional  Government, 
a  member  of  the  Executive  Committee,  and  finally  Director 
of  the  Comptoir  d'Escompte. 

Achille  Gregoire,  the  printer  of  the  National,  became 
Prefect  of  the  Department  of  the  XJpper-Saone. 

Clement  Thomas,  called  the  Constable  of  the  National^ 
became  the  Commander-in-chief  of  the  National  Guard  of 
the  Seine. 

There  are  a  few  score  more,  friends  and  allies,  such  as 
Lalanne,  who  was  made  director  of  the  national  workshops ; 
Levrault,  who  was  sent  to  Naples  as  minister  plenipoten- 
tiary ;  Carette,  who  became  Civil-Chief  at  Constantine ;  Car- 
teron,  who  was  appointed  keeper  of  the  national  archives,  etc. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  all  these  adventurers  had  revolving 
around  them  a  number  of  satellites,  as  eager  as  the  former  to 
reap  the  fruits  of  the  situation.  Most  of  them,  like  the  cat 
of  Heine's  epigram,  had  to  devour  their  steak  raw ;  they  did 
not  know  how  to  cook  it.  Ministers,  prefects,  and  high  dig- 
nitaries of  State  as  they  were,  they  felt  awkward  in  the  so- 
ciety of  those  to  whom  no  illusion  was  possible  with  regard 
to  their  origin  and  that  of  their  political  fortunes. 

They  haunted,  therefore,  by  preference,  the  less  well  fre- 
quented restaurants  and  cafes,  the  wings  of  the  minor 
theatres,  on  the  pretext  that  they  were  the  elect  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  that  the  people  were  their  fittest  companions.  Their 
erstwhile  leader  and  chief  scorned  to  stoop  to  such  tricks. 
He  was  an  educated  man,  with  a  thick  veneer  of  the  gentle- 
man about  him,  which,  however,  did  not  prevent  him  from 
being  one  of  the  two  most  arrant  snobs  I  have  met  anywhere. 
I  advisedly  say  anywhere,  for  France  herself  does  not  pro- 
duce that  objectionable  genus  to  any  appreciable  extent. 
You  may  find  a  good  many  cads,  you  will  find  comparatively 
few  snobs.  Compared  to  Armand  Marrast,  Eugene  Sue  was 
nowhere  as  a  snob.     He  was  a  thickset  man  with  a  rubicund 


246  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARTS. 

face,  with  a  mass  of  grey  woolly  hair  and  a  kind  of  stubbly, 
small  moustache.  His  manners  were  supposed  to  be  mod- 
elled on  those  of  the  nobles  of  the  old  regime ;  said  manners 
mainly  consisting  of  swaggering  impudence  to  those  whom 
he  considered  his  equals,  and  freezing  insolence  to  those  he 
deemed  his  inferiors.  The  latter,  I  need  not  say,  were  by  far 
the  most  numerous.  He  who  bellowed  most  loudly  that 
birth  should  carry  no  privilege,  never  forgot  to  remind  his 
hearers,  by  deeds,  if  not  by  words,  that  he  was  of  noble 
descent.  "  Si  sa  famille  etait  noble,  sa  mere  s'est  surement 
endormie  dans  I'antichambre  un  jour  qu'un  valet-de-chambre 
entreprenant  etait  trop  pers,"  said  the  Marquis  d'Arragon 
one  evening.*  He  felt  greatly  flattered  at  the  caricaturists  of 
the  day  representing  him  in  the  court  dress  of  Louis  XVI.'s 
reign,  though  to  most  people  he  looked  like  a  "  marquis  de 
quatre  sous."  f 

He  professed  to  be  very  fond  of  antique  furniture  and 
decorations,  and  this  fondness  was  the  main  cause  of  his 
ousting  his  formei  subaltern,  Buchez,  from  the  presidential 
chair  of  the  Assembly,  for,  shortly  before  the  revolution  of 
'48,  the  official  residence  of  that  functionary  had  been  put  in 
thorough  repair,  its  magnificent  furniture  had  been  restored, 
etc. 

The  depression  of  business  inspired  M.  Armand  Marrast 
with  the  happy  thought  of  giving  some  entertainments  in 
the  hope  of  reviving  it.  During  the  Third  Eepublic,  though 
I  had  ceased  to  live  in  France  permanently,  I  have  seen  a 
good  many  motley  gatherings  at  the  Elysee-Bourbon,  and  at 
the  H6tel-de-Ville,  especially  in  M.  Grevy's  time,  though 
Mac-Mahon's  presidency  offered  some  diverting  specimens 
also ;  but  I  have  never  seen  anything  like  the  social  functions 
at  the  Palais-Bourbon  during  the  months  of  September,  Oc- 
tober, and  November,  1848.  They  were  absolutely  the  fes- 
tive scenes  of  Paul  de  Kock  on  a  large  scale,  amidst  Louis 
XIV.  and  Louis  XV.  furniture,  instead  of  the  bourgeois 
mahogany,  and  with  an  exquisitely  artistic  background,  in- 
stead of  the  commonplace  paperhangings  of  the  lower  mid- 
dle-class dwellings.     The  corps  diplomatique   was  virtually 

*  The  remark  was  not  original.  The  Marquise  d'Esprem^nil  said  it  of  her- 
self when  she  saw  her  son  ,ioin  the  Eevolution  of  '89. — Editor, 

+  The  peripatetic  vendors  of  songs,  dressed  as  nobles,  who  up  till  '60  were 
frequently  singing  their  compositions  in  the  street. — Editor. 


A   BALL  AT  THE   PALAIS-BOURBOX.  247 

on  the  horns  of  a  dilemma.  After  the  February  revolution, 
the  shock  of  which  was  felt  throughout  the  whole  of  Europe, 
and  caused  most  of  the  sovereigns  to  shake  on  their  thrones, 
it  had  stood  by  M.  de  Lamartine,  and  even  by  his  successor  at 
the  French  Foreign  Office,  M.  Bastide,  if  not  with  enthusi- 
asm, at  least  with  a  kind  of  complacency.  The  republic  pro- 
claimed by  the  former,  might,  after  all,  contain  elements  of 
vitality.  The  terrible  disorders  in  June  tended  to  shake  this 
reluctant  confidence  ;  still,  there  was  but  little  change  in  the 
ambassadors'  outward  attitude,  until  it  became  too  evident 
that,  unless  a  strong  dictator  should  intervene,  mob  rule  was 
dangerously  nigh.  Then  the  corps  diplomatique  began  to 
hold  aloof.  Of  course  there  were  exceptions,  such  as,  for 
instance,  Mr.  Richard  Rush,  the  minister  of  the  United 
States,  who  had  been  the  first  to  congratulate  the  Provisional 
Government,  and  the  various  representatives  of  the  South- 
American  republics  ;  but  even  the  latter  could  scarcely  refrain 
from  expressing  their  astonishment  at  the  strange  company 
in  which  they  found  themselves.  The  women  were  perhaps 
the  most  remarkable,  as  women  generally  are  when  out  of 
their  element.  The  greater  part  had  probably  never  been 
in  a  drawing-room  before,  and,  notwithstanding  M.  Taiue's 
subsequently  expressed  dictum  about  the  facility  with  which 
a  Parisien  grisette,  shopwoman,  or  lady's-maid  may  be  trans- 
formed at  a  few  moments  into  a  semblance  of  a  grande  clame^ 
these  very  petites  bourgeoises  and  their  demoiselles  made  a 
very  indifferent  show.  Perhaps  the  grisette,  shopwoman,  or 
lady's-maid  would  have  acquitted  herself  better.  Her  natural 
taste,  sharpened  by  constant  contact  Avith  her  social  superiors, 
might  have  made  up  for  the  slender  resources  of  her  ward- 
robe ;  and,  as  the  French  say,  "  one  forgives  much  in  the 
way  of  solecism  to  the  prettily  dressed  woman."  As  it  was, 
the  female  section  of  M.  Marrast's  guests  could  advance  no 
valid  plea  for  mercy  on  that  score.  The  daughters  looked 
limp  with  their  choregraphic  exertions :  the  emblem  of  inno- 
cence, "  la  sainte  mousseline,"  as  Ambroise  Thomas  called  it 
afterwards,  hung  in  vague,  undefined  folds  on  angular  figures, 
perhaps  because  the  starch  necessary  to  it  had  been  appropri- 
ated by  the  matrons.  The  latter  were  rigid  to  a  degree,  and 
looked  daggers  at  their  spouses  and  their  friends  at  the  slight- 
est attempt  to  stir  them  to  animation.  "  Fais  done  danser 
ma  vieille,"  was  the  consecrated  formula  with  which  a  not 
very  eager  cavalier  was  dragged  to  the    seat  where  said 


243  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"vieille"  was  reposing  in  all  the  majesty  of  her  unaccus- 
tomed finery,  considerably  impaired  in  the  wearer's  transit 
on  foot  from  her  domicile  at  Montrouge  or  Menilmontaut  to 
the  banks  of  the  Seine ;  for  the  weather  that  year  was  almost 
tropical,  even  in  the  autumn,  and  consequently  the  cab  had 
been  dispensed  with.  It  would  appear,  from  a  remark  I  over- 
heard, that  Jehu,  in  the  way  of  business,  preferred  as  fares 
the  partisans  of  and  adherents  to  the  fallen  regimes,  even  of 
the  latest  one.  Said  a  portly  dame  to  her  neighbour,  allud- 
ing to  the  cabman,  "  II  a  absolument  refuse  de  nous  prendre. 
II  a  dit  qu'il  etait  dans  I'opposition,  et  qu'il  ne  voulait  pas 
trahir  ses  principes  a  moins  de  dix  francs.  Dix  francs,  ma 
ch^re,  nous  aurions  pu  souper  chez  nous,  et  sans  compter  les 
frais  de  toilette  et  de  blanchissage.  Quant  A  I'honneur  d'etre 
ici,  9a  ne  compte  pas  pour  grand'chose,  vu  que  tout  le  quar- 
tier  y  est;  nous  demeurons  d  Batignolles,  et  il  a  fallu  de- 
scendre  en  ville  ce  matin  pour  avoir  une  paire  de  gants 
blancs.  Chez  nous,  partout  la  meme  reponse :  '  Des  gauts 
blancs,  madame,  nous  n'en  avons  plus.  Presque  toutes  les 
dames  du  quartier  vont  au  Palais-Bourton  ce  soir,  et  depuis 
hier  il  nous  reste  que  des  petites  pointures  (sizes),  des  sept  et 
des  sept  et  demies.' " 

As  for  the  "  elu  du  peuple  souverain,"  when  he  had  failed 
to  draw  his  "  vieille  "  into  the  mazy  dance,  and  been  snubbed 
for  his  pains  in  the  bargain,  he  returned  to  his  fellow-depu- 
ties, many  of  whom  might  be  easily  recognized  by  the  golden- 
fringed  tricolour  rosette  in  their  buttonholes,  though  some 
had  merely  kept  it  in  their  pockets.  The  "  61u  du  peuple  " 
did  not  dance  himself.  Perhaps  the  most  curious  group  was 
that  of  the  young  attaches  and  clerks  of  the  Foreign  Office 
who  had  come  to  enjoy  themselves,  who,  even  at  that  time, 
were  nearly  all  of  good  birth,  and  who,  to  use  a  colloquial 
expression,  looked  not  unlike  brass  knockers  on  a  pigsty. 
This  was  the  society  Louis-Napoleon  was  to  sweep  away  with 
the  aid  of  men,  some  of  whom  I  have  endeavoured  to  sketch 
in  subsequent  notes.  I  would  fain  say  a  few  words  of  a 
"  shipwrecked  one,"  of  the  preceding  dynasty,  whose  ac- 
quaintance I  did  not  make  until  the  vessel  he  had  steered  so 
long  had  foundered,  and  of  the  self-constituted  pilot  of  the 
interim  regime.  I  am  alluding  to  MM.  Guizot  and  de  La- 
martine. 


GUIZOT,  LAMARTINE,  AND  BIIRANGER.  249 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Guizot,  Lamartine,  and  Beranger — Public  opinion  at  sea  with  regard  to  the  real 
Guizot — People  fail  to  see  the  real  man  behind  the  politician — Guizot  re- 
grets this  false  conception — "  I  have  not  the  courage  to  be  unpopular  " — A 
tilt  at  Thiers — My  first  meeting  with  hira — A  picture  and  the  story  con- 
nected with  it — M.  Guizot  "  at  home  " — His  apartment — The  company — M. 
Guizot  on  "  the  Spanish  marriages  " — His  indictment  against  Lord  Palmer- 
ston — An  incident  in  connection  with  Kapoleon's  tomh  at  the  Invalides — 
Nicolas  I.  and  Napoleon — My  subseq^uent  intimacy  with  M.  Guizot — Guizot 
as  a  father — His  correspondence  with  his  daughters — A  story  of  Henry 
Murger  and  Marguerite  Thuillier — M.  Guizot  makes  up  his  mind  not  to  live 
in  Paris  any  longer — M.  Guizot  on  "  natural  scenery  " — Never  saw  the  sea 
until  he  wa-s  over  fifty — Whj'  M.  Guizot  did  not  like  the  country ;  why  M. 
Thiers  did  not  like  it — Thiers  the  only  man  at  whom  Guizot  tilted — M. 
Guizot  died  poor — M.  de  Lamartine's  poverty  did  not  inspire  the  same  re- 
spect— Lamartine's  impecuniosity — My  only  visit  to  Lamartine's  house — 
Du  Jellaby  dore — With  a  difference — All  the  stories  and  anecdotes  about 
M.  de  Lamartine  relate  to  his  improvidence  and  impecuniosity — Ten  times 
worse  in  that  respect  than  Balzac — M.  Guizot's  literary  productions  and  M. 
de  Lamartine's— The  national  subscription  raised  for  tlie  latter — How  he 
anticipates  some  of  the  money — Beranger — My  first  acquaintance  with  him 
— Beranger's  verdict  on  the  Second  Republic — B^ranger's  constant  flitting 
— Dislikes  popularity — The  true  story  of  Beranger  and  Mdlle.  Judim 
Frere. 

That  sentence  of  Louis-Philippe  to  Lord ,  quoted 

elsewhere :  "  Guizot  is  so  terribly  respectable ;  I  am  afraid 
there  is  a  mistake  either  about  his  nationality  or  his  respecta- 
bility, for  they  are  badly  matched,"  reflected  the  opinion  of 
the  majority  of  Frenchmen  with  regard  to  the  eminent 
statesman.  The  historian  who  was  supposed  to  know  Crom- 
well and  Washington  as  well  as  if  he  had  lived  with  them,  was 
credited  at  last  with  being  a  stern  rigid  Puritan  in  private 
life  like  the  first,  impatient  of  contradiction  like  the  second — 
in  short,  a  kind  of  walking  copy-book  moral,  who  never  un- 
bent, whose  slightest  actions  were  intended  by  him  to  convey 
a  lesson  to  the  rest  of  mankind.  Unable  to  devote  much 
time  to  her  during  the  week,  Guizot  was  in  the  habit  of 
taking  his  mother  for  a  stroll  in  the  Park  of  St.  Cloud  on 
Sundays.  The  French,  who  are  never  tired  of  shouting, 
*'  Oh,  ma  mere !  oh,  ma  mere ! "  resented  such  small  atten- 


250  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

tions  on  the  part  of  the  son,  because,  they  maintained,  they 
were  meant  as  exhibitions.  Even  such  a  philosopher  as 
Ernest  Eenan  failed  to  see  that  there  were  two  dissimilar 
men  in  Guizot,  the  Guizot  of  public  life  and  the  Guizot  of 
home  life ;  that,  behind  the  imperious,  haughty,  battlesome 
orator  of  the  Chamber,  with  his  almost  marble  mask,  there 
was  a  tender  and  loving  heart,  capable  of  the  most  deep- 
seated  devotion ;  that  the  cares  of  State  once  thrown  off,  the 
supercilious  stare  melted  like  ice  beneath  the  sun  of  spring 
into  a  prepossessing  smile,  captivating  every  one  with  whom 
he  came  in  contact. 

Guizot  regretted  this  erroneous  conception  the  world  had 
formed  of  his  character.  "  But  what  can  I  do  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  In  reality,  I  haven't  the  courage  to  be  unpopular  any  more 
than  other  people  ;  but  neither  have  I  the  courage  to  prance 
about  in  my  own  drawing-room  as  if  I  were  on  wires  " — this 
was  a  slight  slap  at  M.  Thiers, — "  nor  can  I  write  on  subjects 
with  which  I  have  no  sympathy  " — that  was  a  second, — "  and 
I  should  cut  but  a  sorry  figure  on  horseback  " — that  was  a 
third ; — "  consequently  people  who,  I  am  sure,  wish  me  well, 
but  who  will  not  come  and  see  me  at  home,  hold  me  up  as  a 
misanthrope,  while  I  know  that  I  am  nothing  of  the  kind." 

With  this  he  took  from  his  table  an  article  by  M.  Eenan 
on  the  first  volume  of  his  "  Memoires,"  an  article  couched  in 
the  most  flattering  terms,  but  giving  the  most  conventional 
portrait  of  the  author  himself.  "  Why  doesn't  he  come  and 
see  me?  He  would  soon  find  that  I  am  not  the  solitary, 
tragic,  buckram  figure  that  has  already  become  legendary, 
and  which,  like  most  legendary  figures,  is  absolutely  false." 

This  conversation — or  rather  monologue,  for  I  was  care- 
ful not  to  interrupt  him — took  place  in  the  early  part  of  the 
Second  Empire,  in  the  house  in  the  Rue  de  la  Ville-Leveque 
he  occupied  for  five  and  twenty  years,  and  until  1860.  The 
Coup  d'Etat  had  irretrievably  shattered  Guizot's  political 
career.  It  had  destroyed  whatever  hopes  may  have  remained 
after  the  flight  of  Louis-Philippe.  Consequently  Guizot's 
proper  place  is  among  the  men  of  that  reign ;  the  reason  why 
I  insert  him  here  is  because  my  acquaintance  with  him  only 
began  after  his  disappearance  from  public  life. 

It  occurred  in  this  way.  One  evening,  after  dinner  at  M. 
de  Morny's,  we  were  talking  about  pictures,  and  especially 
about  those  of  the  Spanish  school,  when  our  host  turned  to 
me.    "  Have  you  ever  seen  '  the  Virgin '  belonging  to  M. 


GUIZOT   "AT  HOME."  251 

Guizot  ?  "  he  asked.  I  told  him  I  had  not.  "  Then  go  and 
see  it,"  he  said.  "  It  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of  its 
kind  I  ever  saw,  I  might  say  the  finest."  Next  day  I  asked 
permission  of  M.  Guizot  to  come  and  see  it,  and,  almost  by 
return  of  post,  I  received  an  invitation  for  the  following 
Thursday  night  to  one  of  his  "  at  homes." 

Until  then  I  had  never  met  M.  Guizot,  except  at  one  of 
his  ministerial  soirees  under  the  preceding  dynasty.  The 
apartment  offered  nothing  very  striking  :  the  furniture  was 
of  the  ordinary  kind  to  be  found  in  almost  every  bourgeois 
drawing-room,  with  this  difference — that  it  was  considerably 
shabbier ;  for  Guizot  was  poor  all  his  life.  The  man  who  had 
said  to  the  nation,  "  Enrichissez  vous,  enrichissez  vous,"  had 
never  acted  upon  the  advice  himself.  I  know  for  a  fact  that, 
while  he  was  in  power,  he  was  asked  to  appoint  to  the  post 
of  receiver-general  of  the  Gironde  one  of  the  richest  finan- 
ciers in  France,  who  had  expressed  the  intention  to  share  the 
magnificent  benefits  of  the  appointment  with  him.  M.  Guizot 
simply  and  steadfastly  refused  to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 

On  the  evening  in  question,  a  lamp  with  a  reflector  was 
placed  in  front  of  the  picture  I  had  come  to  see,  probably  in 
my  honour.  M.  de  Morny  had  not  exaggerated  the  beauty 
of  it,  but  it  bore  no  signature,  and  M.  Guizot  himself  had  no 
idea  with  regard  to  the  painter.  "  There  is  a  curious  story 
connected  with  it,"  he  said,  "  but  I  cannot  tell  it  you  now  ; 
come  and  see  me  one  morning  and  I  will.  As  an  English- 
man it  will  interest  you ;  especially  if  you  will  take  the  trouble 
to  read  between  the  lines.  I  will  tell  you  a  few  more,  perhaps, 
but  the  one  connected  with  the  picture  is  '  la  bonne  bouche.' " 

The  company  at  M.  Guizot's,  on  that  and  other  occasions, 
mainly  consisted  of  those  who  had  been  vanquished  in  the 
recent  struggle  with  Louis-Napoleon,  or  thought  they  had 
been ;  for  a  great  many  were  mere  word-spinners,  who  had 
been  quite  as  vehement  in  their  denunciations  of  the  man 
they  were  now  surrounding  when  he  was  in  power,  as  they 
were  in  their  diatribes  against  the  man  who,  after  all,  saved 
France  for  eighteen  years  from  anarchy,  and  did  not  indulge 
more  freely  in  nepotism,  peculation,  and  kindred  amenities 
than  those  who  came  after  him.  But,  at  the  outset  of  these 
notes,  I  took  the  resolution  to  eschew  politics,  and  I  will  en- 
deavour to  keep  it  as  far  as  possible. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  I  soon  availed  myself  of  M.  Guizot's 
permission  to  call  upon  him  in  the  morning,  and  it  was  then 


252  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

that  he  told  me  the  following  story  connected  with  the  pict- 
ure. 

"  After  the  Spanish  marriages,  Queen  Isabella  wished  to 
convey  to  me  a  signal  mark  of  her  gratitude — for  what, 
Heaven  alone  knows,  because  it  is  the  only  political  transac- 
tion I  would  willingly  efface  from  my  career.  So  she  con- 
ferred upon  me  the  dukedom  of  San  Antonio,  and  sent  me 
the  patent  with  a  most  affectionate  letter.  Honestly  speak- 
ing, I  was  more  than  upset  by  this  proof  of  royal  kindness, 
seeing  that  I  had  not  the  least  wish  to  accept  the  title.  I  felt 
equally  reluctant  to  offend  her  by  declining  the  high  distinc- 
tion offered,  I  felt  sure,  from  a  most  generous  feeling.  I 
went  to  see  the  King,  and  explained  my  awkward  position, 
adding  that  the  name  of  Guizot  was  all  sufficient  for  me. 
'  You  are  right,'  said  the  King.  '  Leave  the  matter  to  me  ; 
I'll  arrange  it.'  And  he  did,  much  to  the  disgust  of  M.  de 
Salvandy,  who  had  received  a  title  at  the  same  time,  but  who 
could  not  accept  his  while  the  Prime  Minister  declined. 

"  Then  she  sent  me  this  picture.  Some  witty  journalist 
said,  at  the  time,  that  it  was  symbolical  of  her  own  married 
state ;  for  let  me  tell  you  that  the  unfitness  of  Don  Francis 
d'Assis  was  '  le  secret  de  polichinelle,'  however  much  your 
countrymen  may  have  insisted  that  it  only  leaked  out  after 
the  union.  Personally  I  was  entirely  opposed  to  it,  and,  in 
fact,  it  was  not  a  ministerial  question  at  all,  but  one  of  court 
intrigue.  Lord  Palmerston  chose  to  make  it  the  former,  and 
he,  and  your  countrymen  through  him,  are  not  only  morally 
but  virtually  responsible  for  the  subsequent  errors  of  Isabella. 
Do  you  know  what  his  ultimatum  was  when  the  marriage 
had  been  contracted,  when  there  was  no  possibility  of  going 
back  ?  You  do  not.  Well,  then,  I  will  tell  you.  '  If  Isabella 
has  not  a  child  within  a  twelvemonth,  then  there  will  be  war 
between  England  and  France.'  I  leave  you  to  ponder  the 
consequences  for  yourself,  though  I  assure  you  that  I  washed 
my  hands  of  the  affair  from  that  moment.  But  the  French 
as  well  as  the  English  would  never  believe  me,  and  history 
will  record  that '  the  austere  M.  Guizot,'  for  that  is  what  they 
choose  to  call  me,  '  lent  his  aid  to  proceedings  which  would 
make  the  most  debased  pander  blush  with  shame.' 

"  It  is  not  the  only  time  that  my  intentions  have  been 
purposely  misconceived  and  misconstrued ;  nay,  I  have  been 
taxed  with  things  of  which  I  was  as  innocent  as  a  child.  In 
1846,  almost  at  the  same  period  that  the  Spanish  imbroglio 


NICHOLAS  I.  AND  NAPOLEON.         253 

took  place,  Count  de  Montalembert  got  up  in  the  Upper 
House  one  day  and  declared  it  a  disgrace  that  France  should 
have  begged  the  tomb  of  Napoleon  I.  from  Kussia.  Now, 
the  fact  was  that  France  had  not  begged  anything  at  all. 
The  principal  part  of  the  monument  at  the  Invalides  is  the 
sarcophagus.  The  architect  Visconti  was  anxious  that  it 
should  consist  of  red  porphyry;  M.  Duchdtel  and  myself 
were  of  the  same  opinion.  Unfortunately,  we  had  not  the 
remotest  notion  where  such  red  porphyry  was  to  be  found. 
The  Egyptian  quarries,  whence  the  Eomans  took  it,  were  ex- 
hausted. Inquiries  were  made  in  the  Vosges,  in  the  Pyre- 
nees, but  without  result,  and  we  were  going  to  abandon  the 
porphyry,  when  news  arrived  at  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior 
that  the  kind  of  stone  we  wanted  existed  in  Russia. 

"  Just  then  my  colleague,  M.  de  Salvandy,  was  sending 
M.  Leouzon  le  Due  to  the  north  on  a  special  mission,  and  I 
instructed  him  to  go  as  far  as  St.  Petersburg  and  consult 
Count  de  Rayneval,  our  ambassador,  as  to  the  best  means  of 
getting  the  porphyry.  A  few  months  later,  M.  le  Due  sent 
me  specimens  of  a  stone  from  a  quarry  on  the  banks  of  the 
Onega  Lake,  which,  if  not  absolutely  porphyry,  was  the  near- 
est to  it  to  be  had.  M.  Visconti  having  approved  of  it,  I  for- 
warded further  instructions  for  the  quantity  required,  and  so 
forth. 

"  The  quarry,  it  appears,  belonged  to  the  Crown,  and  had 
never  been  worked,  could  not  be  worked,  without  due  per- 
mission and  the  payment  of  a  certain  tax.  After  a  great 
many  formalities,  mainly  raised  by  speculators  who  had  got 
wind  of  the  affair,  and  had  bribed  various  officials  to  oppose, 
or,  at  any  rate,  intercept  the  petition  sent  by  M.  le  Due  for  the 
necessary  authorization.  Prince  Wolkonsky,  the  Minister  of 
State,  acquainted  the  Czar  himself  with  the  affair,  and  Nicho- 
las, without  a  moment's  hesitation,  granted  the  request,  re- 
mitting the  tax  which  M.  le  Due  had  estimated  at  about  six 
thousand  francs.  This  took  place  at  a  cabinet  council,  and, 
unfortunately  for  me,  the  Czar  thought  fit  to  make  a  little 
speech.  '  What  a  strange  destiny ! '  he  said,  rising  from  his 
seat  and  assuming  a  solemn  tone — '  what  a  strange  destiny 
this  man's ' — alluding  to  Napoleon — '  even  in  death  !  It  is 
we  who  struck  him  the  first  fatal  blow,  by  the  burning  of  our 
holy  and  venerable  capital,  and  it  is  from  us  that  France  asks 
his  tomb.  Let  the  French  envoy  have  everything  he  requires, 
and,  above  all,  let  no  tax  be  taken.' 


254  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"  That  was  enough  ;  the  German  and  French  papers  got 
hold  of  the  last  words  with  the  rest ;  they  confounded  the 
tax  with  the  cost  of  working,  which  amounted  to  more  than 
two  hundred  thousand  francs ;  and  up  to  this  day,  notwith- 
standing the  explanations  I  and  my  colleagues  offered  in  re- 
ply to  the  interpellation  of  M.  de  Montalembert,  the  story 
remains  that  Russia  made  France  a  present  of  the  tomb  of 
Napoleon." 

From  that  day  forth  I  often  called  upon  M.  Guizot,  espe- 
cially in  the  daytime,  when  I  knew  that  he  had  finished 
working ;  for  when  he  found  that  his  political  career  was 
irrevocably  at  an  end,  he  turned  very  cheerfully — I  might 
say  gladly — to  his  original  avocation,  literature.  Without 
the  slightest  fatigue,  without  the  slightest  worry,  he  produced 
a  volume  of  philosophical  essays  or  history  every  year  ;  and 
if,  unlike  Alexandre  Dumas,  he  did  not  roar  with  laughter 
while  composing,  he  was  often  heard  to  hum  a  tune.  "  En 
effet,"  said  one  of  his  daughters,  the  Countess  Henriette  de 
Witt  (both  his  daughters  bore  the  same  name  and  titles  when 
married),  "  notre  pere  ne  chante  presque  jamais  qu'en  tra- 
vaillant."  This  did  not  mean  that  work,  and  work  only,  had 
the  effect  of  putting  M.  Guizot  in  good  humour.  He  was, 
according  to  the  same  authority,  uniformly  sweet-tempered 
at  home,  whether  sitting  in  his  armchair,  surrounded  by  his 
family,  or  gently  strolling  up  and  down  his  library.  "  C'est 
la  politique  qui  le  rendait  mechant,"  said  Madame  de  Witt, 
*'  heureusement  il  la  laissait  a  la  porte.  Et  'tres  souvent  il 
I'oubliait  de  parti-pris  au  milieu  du  conseil  et  alors  il  nous 
ecrivait  des  lettres,  mais  des  lettres,  comme  on  n'en  ecrit 
plus.  En  voila  deux  qu'il  m'a  ecrites  lorsque  j'etais  tres 
jeune  fille."  Whereupon  she  showed  me  what  were  really 
two  charming  gossiping  little  essays  on  the  art  of  punctua- 
tion. It  appears  that  the  little  lady  was  either  very  indiffer- 
ent to,  or  ignorant  of  the  art ;  and  the  father  wrote,  "  My  dear 
Henriette,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  still  have  to  take  you  to  task 
with  regard  to  your  punctuation  :  there  is  little  or  none  of  it 
in  your  letters.  All  punctuation,  commas  or  other  signs, 
mark  a  period  of  repose  for  the  mind — a  stage  more  or  less 
long — an  idea  which  is  done  with  or  momentarily  suspended, 
and  which  is  being  divided  by  such  a  sign  from  the  next. 
You  suppress  those  periods,  those  intervals;  you  write  as 
the  stream  flows,  as  the  arrow  flies.  That  will  not  do  at 
all,  because  the  ideas  one  expresses,  the  things  of  which  we 


GUIZOT  ON  THIERS.  255 

speak,  are  not  all  iutimately  connected  with  one  another  like 
drops  of  water." 

The  second  letter  showed  that  Mdlle.  Guizot  must  have 
taken  her  revenge,  either  very  cleverly,  or  that  she  was  past 
all  redemption  in  the  matter  of  punctuation ;  and  as  the  lat- 
ter theory  is  scarcely  admissible,  knowing  what  we  do  of  her 
after-life,  we  must  admit  the  former.  The  letter  ran  as 
follows : 

"  My  dear  Hexriette, 

"  I  dare  say  you  will  find  me  very  provoking,  but  let  me 
beg  of  you  not  to  fling  so  many  commas  at  my  head.  You 
are  absolutely  pelting  me  with  them,  as  the  Komans  pelted 
that  poor  Tarpeia  with  their  bucklers." 

It  reminds  one  of  Marguerite  Thuillier,  who  "  created 
Mimi "  in  Miirger  and  Barriere's  "  Vie  de  Boheme,"  when 
Miirger  fell  in  love  with  her.  "  I  can't  do  with  him,"  she 
said  to  his  collaborateur,  who  pleaded  for  him, — "  I  can't  do 
with  him  ;  he  is  too  badly  dressed,  he  looks  like  a  scarecrow." 
Barriere  advised  his  friend  to  go  to  a  good  tailor  and  have 
himself  rigged  out  in  the  latest  fashion.  The  advice  was 
acted  upon ;  Barriere  waited  anxiously  for  the  effect  of  the 
transformation  upon  the  lady's  heart.  A  fortnight  elapsed, 
and  poor  Miirger  was  snubbed  as  usual.  Barriere  interceded 
once  more.  "  I  can  do  less  with  him  than  before,"  was  the 
answer ;  "  he  is  too  well  dressed,  he  looks  like  a  tailor's 
dummy." 

To  return  to  M.  Guizot,  whom,  in  the  course  of  the  whole 
of  our  acquaintance,  I  have  only  seen  once  "  put  out."  It 
was  when  the  fiat  went  forth  that  his  house  was  to  come 
down  to  make  room  for  the  new  Boulevard  Malesherbes. 
The  authorities  had  been  as  considerate  as  possible;  they 
had  made  no  attempt  to  treat  the  eminent  historian  as  a  sim- 
ple owner  of  house-property  fighting  to  get  the  utmost  value ; 
they  offered  him  three  hundred  thousand  francs,  and  M. 
Guizot  himself  acknowledged  that  the  sum  was  a  handsome 
one.  "  But  I  have  got  thirty  thousand  volumes  to  remove, 
besides  my  notes  and  manuscripts,"  he  wailed.  Then  his 
good  temper  got  the  better  of  him,  and  he  had  a  "  sly  dig  " 
at  his  former  adversary,  Adolphe  Thiers.  "  Serves  me  right 
for  having  so  many  books ;  happy  the  historian  who  prefers 
to  trust  to  his  imagination." 


256  ^N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

M.  Guizot  made  up  his  mind  to  have  his  library  removed 
to  Val- Richer  and  never  to  live  in  Paris  again  ;  but  his  chil- 
dren and  friends  prevailed  upon  him  not  to  forsake  society 
altogether,  and  to  take  a  modest  apartment  near  his  old 
domicile,  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore,  opposite  the  English 
embassy,  which,  however,  in  those  days  had  not  the  monu- 
mental aspect  it  has  at  present. 

"  It  is  doubtful,"  said  M.  Guizot  afterwards  to  me, 
"  whether  the  idea  of  living  in  the  country  would  have  ever 
entered  my  mind  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago.  At  that  time,  I 
would  not  have  gone  a  couple  of  miles  to  see  the  most  mag- 
nificent bit  of  natural  scenery :  I  should  have  gone  a  thou- 
sand to  see  a  man  of  talent." 

And,  in  fact,  up  till  1830,  when  he  was  nearly  forty-four, 
he  had  never  seen  the  sea,  "  And  if  it  had  not  been  for  an 
electoral  journey  to  Normandy,  I  might  not  have  seen  it 
then."  I  pointed  out  to  him  that  M.  Thiers  had  never  had 
a  country  house ;  that  he  did  not  seem  to  care  for  nature,  for 
birds,  or  for  flowers. 

"  Ah,  that's  different,"  he  smiled.  "  I  did  not  care  much 
about  the  country,  because  I  had  never  seen  any  of  it.  Thiers 
does  not  like  it,  because  the  birds,  the  flowers,  the  trees,  live 
and  grow  without  his  interference,  and  he  does  not  care  that 
anything  on  earth  should  happen  without  his  having  a  hand 
in  it." 

Thiers  was  the  only  man  at  whom  M.  Guizot  tilted  in 
that  way.  Though  brought  up  in  strict  Protestant,  one 
might  almost  say  Calvinistic  principles,  he  was  an  ardent  ad- 
mirer of  Roman  Catholicism,  which  he  called  "  the  most  ad- 
mirable school  of  respect  in  the  world."  No  man  had  suf- 
fered more  from  the  excesses  of  the  first  Revolution,  seeing 
that  his  father  perished  on  the  scaffold,  yet  I  should  not  like 
to  say  that  he  was  not  somewhat  of  a  republican  at  heart,  but 
not  of  a  republic  "  which  begins  with  Plato  and  necessarily 
ends  with  a  gendarme."  "  The  republic  of  '48,"  he  used  to 
say,  "  it  had  not  even  a  Monk,  let  alone  a  Washington  or  a 
Cromwell ;  and  Louis-Napoleon  had  to  help  himself  to  the 
throne.  And  depend  upon  it,  if  there  had  been  a  Cromwell, 
he  would  have  crushed  it  as  the  English  one  crushed  the 
monarchy.  As  for  Washington,  he  would  not  have  meddled 
with  it-at  all." 

"  Yes,"  he  said  on  another  occasion,  "  I  am  proud  of  one 
thing — of  the  authorship  of  the  law  on  elementary  educa- 


DE  LAMARTINE.  257 

tion ;  but,  proud  as  I  am  of  it,  if  I  could  have  foreseen  the 
uses  to  which  it  has  been  put,  to  which  it  is  likely  to  be  put 
when  I  am  gone,  I  would  sooner  have  seen  half  of  the  nation 
unable  to  distinguish  an  '  A  from  a  bull's  foot,'  as  your  coun- 
trymen say." 

With  Gruizot  died  almost  the  last  French  statesman, 
"  who  not  only  thought  that  he  had  the  privilege  to  be  poor, 
but  who  carried  the  privilege  too  far ;  "  as  some  one  remarked 
when  he  heard  the  news  of  his  demise.  Towards  the  latter 
years  of  his  life,  he  occupied  a  modest  apartment,  on  the 
fourth  floor,  in  the  Rue  Billaut  (now  the  Rue  Washington). 
Well  might  M.  de  Falloux  exclaim,  as  he  toiled  up  that  stair- 
case, "  My  respect  for  him  increases  with  every  step  I  take." 

Since  M.  de  Falloux  uttered  these  words,  and  very  long 
bef  oi'e,  I  have  only  known  one  French  statesman  whose  stair- 
case and  whose  poverty  might  perhaps  inspire  the  same  reflec- 
tions and  elicit  similar  praise.     I  am  alluding  to  M.  Rouher. 

M.  de  Lamartine's  poverty  did  not  breed  the  same  re- 
spect. There  was  no  dignity  about  it.  It  was  the  poverty 
of  Oliver  Goldsmith  sending  to  Dr.  Johnson  and  feasting 
with  the  guinea  the  latter  had  forwarded  by  the  messenger 
pending  his  own  arrival.  Mery  had  summed  up  the  situa- 
tion with  regard  to  Lamartine's  difficulties  on  the  evening  of 
the  24th  of  February,  '48,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suspect 
that  his  statement  had  been  exaggerated.  The  dynasty  of 
the  younger  branch  of  the  Bourbons  had  been  overthrown 
because  Lamartine  saw  no  other  means  of  liquidating  the 
350,000  francs  he  still  owed  for  his  princely  journey  to  the 
East.  I  had  been  to  Lamartine's  house  once  before  that 
revolution,  and,  though  his  wife  was  an  Englishwoman,  I  felt 
no  inclination  to  return  thither.  The  household  gave  me 
the  impression  of  "  Du  Jellaby  dore."  The  sight  of  it  would 
have  furnished  Dickens  with  as  good  a  picture  as  the  one 
he  sketched.  The  principal  personage,  however,  was  not 
quite  so  disinterested  as  the  future  mother-in-law  of  Prince 
Turveydrop.  Of  course,  at  that  time,  there  was  no  question 
of  a  republic,  but  the  politics  advocated  and  discussed  during 
the  lunch  were  too  superfine  for  humble  mortals  like  myself, 
who  instinctively  felt  that — 

"  Quelques  billets  de  mille  francs  feraient  bien  mieux  I'affaire  " 

of  the  host.  And  the  instinct  was  not  a  deceptive  one. 
Four  months  after  February,  1848,  M.  de  Lamartine  had 


258  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

virtually  ceased  to  exist,  as  far  as  French  politics  were  con- 
cerned. From  that  time  until  the  day  of  his  death,  the 
world  only  heard  of  him  in  connection  with  a  new  book  or 
new  poem,  the  avowed  purpose  of  which  was,  not  to  make 
the  world  better  or  wiser,  but  to  raise  money.  He  kept  sing- 
ing like  the  benighted  musician  on  the  Russian  steppes  keeps 
playing  his  instrument,  to  keep  away  the  wolves. 

I  knew  not  one  but  a  dozen  men,  all  of  whom  visited  M. 
de  Lamartine.  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  a  single  story 
or  anecdote  about  him,  not  bearing  upon  the  money  question. 
He  is  ten  times  worse  in  that  respect  than  Balzac,  with  this 
additional  point  in  the  latter's  favour — that  he  never  whines 
to  the  outside  world  about  his  impecuniosity.  M.  Guizot 
produces  a  volume  every  twelvemonth,  and  asks  nothing  of 
any  one  ;  he  leaves  the  advertising  of  it  to  his  publisher  :  M. 
de  Lamartine  spends  enormous  sums  in  publicity,  and  sub- 
sidizes, besides,  a  crowd  of  journalists,  who  devour  his  cred- 
itors' substance  while  he  keeps  repeating  to  them  that  his 
books  do  not  sell.  "  If,  henceforth,  I  were  to  offer  pearls 
dissolved  in  the  cup  of  Cleopatra,  people  would  use  the 
decoction  to  wash  their  horses'  feet."  And,  all  the  while, 
people  bought  his  works,  though  no  one  cared  to  read  the 
later  ones.  The  golden  lyre  of  yore  was  worse  than  dumb ; 
it  emitted  false  and  weak  sounds,  the  strings  had  become  re- 
laxed, the  golden  tongue  alone  remained. 

When  a  national  subscription  is  raised  to  pay  his  debts, 
the  committee  are  so  afraid  of  his  wasting  the  money  that 
they  decide  to  have  the  proceeds  deposited  at  the  Comptoir 
d'Escompte,  and  that  de  Lamartine  shall  not  be  able  to  draw 
a  farthing  until  all  his  affairs  are  settled.  One  morning  he 
deputes  a  friend  to  ask  for  forty  thousand  francs,  in  order  to 
pay  some  bills  that  are  due.  They  refuse  to  advance  the 
money.  De  Lamartine  invites  them  to  his  own  house,  but 
they  stand  firm  at  first.  Gradually  they  give  way.  "  How 
much  do  you  really  want  ? "  is  the  question  asked  at  last. 
"  Fifty  thousand  francs,"  is  the  answer ;  "  but  I  fancy  I  shall 
be  able  to  manage  with  thirty  thousand  francs." 

"  If  we  gave  you  fifty  thousand  francs,"  says  M.  Emile 
Pereire,  "  would  you  give  us  some  breathing- time  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

And  Lamartine  pockets  the  fifty  thousand  francs,  thanks 
to  his  eloquence. 

A  better  man,  though  not  so  great  a  poet,  was  Beranger, 


BfeRANGER.  259 

whom  I  knew  for  many  years,  though  my  intimacy  with  him 
did  not  commence  until  a  few  months  after  the  February 
revolution,  when  I  met  him  coming  out  of  the  Palais-Bour- 
bon. "  I  shall  feel  obliged,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  see  me 
home,  for  I  am  not  at  all  well ;  these  violent  scenes  are  not 
at  all  to  my  taste."  Then,  with  a  very  wistful  smile,  he  went 
on  :  "  I  have  been  accused  of  having  held  '  the  plank  across 
the  brook  over  which  Louis-Philippe  went  to  the  Tuileries.' 
I  wish  I  could  be  the  bridge  across  the  channel  on  which  he 
would  return  now.  Certainly  I  would  have  liked  a  republic, 
but  not  such  a  one  as  we  are  having  in  there,"  pointing  to 
the  home  of  the  Constituent  Assembly.  A  short  while  after, 
Beranger  tendered  his  resignation  as  deputy. 

He  lived  at  Passy  then,  in  the  Rue  Basse  ;  the  number,  if 
I  mistake  not,  was  twenty-three.  He  had  lived  in  the  same 
quarter  fifteen  years  before,  for  I  used  to  see  him  take  his 
walks  when  I  was  a  lad,  but  it  was  difficult  for  Beranger  to 
live  in  the  same  spot  for  any  length  of  time.  He  was,  first 
of  all,  of  a  very  nomadic  disposition ;  secondly,  his  quondam 
friends  would  leave  him  no  peace.  There  was  a  constant 
inroad  of  shady  individuals  who,  on  the  pretext  that  he 
was  "the  people's  poet,"  drained  his  purse  and  his  cellar. 
Previous  to  his  return  to  Passy,  he  had  been  boarding  with  a 
respectable  widow  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Vincennes.  He 
had  adopted  the  name  of  Bonnin,  and  his  landlady  took  him 
to  be  a  modest,  retired  tradesman,  living  upon  a  small 
annuity.  When  his  birthday  came  round,  she  and  her  daugh- 
ters found  out  that  they  had  entertained  an  angel  unawares,  for 
carriage  after  carriage  drove  up,  and  in  a  few  hours  the  small 
dwelling  was  filled  with  magnificent  flowers,  the  visitors 
meanwhile  surrounding  Beranger,  and  offering  him  their  con- 
gratulations. As  a  matter  of  course,  the  rumour  spread,  and 
Beranger  fled  to  Passy,  where  he  invited  Mdlle.  Judith  Frere 
to  join  him  once  more.  The  retreat  had  been  discovered, 
and  he  resigned  himself  to  be  badgered  more  than  usual  for 
the  sake  of  the  neighbourhood — the  Bois  de  Boulogne  was 
hard  by ;  but  the  municipal  council  of  Passy,  in  considera- 
tion of  the  honour  conferred  upon  the  arrondissement  and 
Beranger's  charity,  took  it  into  their  heads  to  pass  a  resolu- 
tion offering  Beranger  the  most  conspicuous  place  in  the 
cemetery  for  a  tomb.  The  poet  fled  once  more,  this  time  to 
the  Quartier-Latin ;  but  the  students  insisting  on  pointing 
hitn  out  to  their  female  companions,  who,  in  their  enthusiasm, 


260  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

made  it  a  point  of  embracing  him  on  every  possible  occasion, 
especially  in  the  "  Closerie  des  Lilas " — for  to  the  end 
Beranger  remained  fond  of  the  society  of  young  folk, — 
Beranger  was  compelled  to  flit  once  more.  After  a  short 
stay  in  the  Kue  Vendome,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
Temple,  he  came  to  the  Quartier-Beaujon,  where  I  visited 
him. 

There  have  been  so  many  tales  with  regard  to  Beranger's 
companion,  Mdlle.  Judith  Frere,  and  all  equally  erroneous, 
that  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  rectify  them.  Mdlle.  Frere  was 
by  no  means  the  kind  of  upper  servant  she  was  generally 
supposed  to  be.  A  glance  at  her  face  and  a  few  moments 
spent  in  her  company  could  not  fail  to  convince  any  one  that 
she  was  of  good  birth.  She  had  befriended  Beranger  when 
he  was  very  young,  they  had  parted  for  some  time,  and  they 
ended  their  days  together,  for  the  poet  only  survived  his 
friend  three  months.  Beranger  was  a  model  of  honesty  and 
disinterestedness.  Ambition  he  had  little  or  none ;  he  was 
somewhat  fond  of  teasing  children,  not  because  he  had  no 
affection  for  them,  but  because  he  loved  them  too  much. 
His  portrait  by  Ary  Scheffer  is  the  most  striking  likeness  I 
have  ever  seen  ;  but  a  better  one  still,  perhaps,  is  by  an  artist 
who  had  probably  never  set  eyes  on  him.  I  am  alluding  to 
Hablot  Browne,  who  unconsciously  reproduced  him  to  the 
life  in  the  picture  of  Tom  Pinch.  As  a  companion,  Beranger 
was  charming  to  a  degree.  I  have  never  heard  him  say  a 
bitter  word.  The  day  I  saw  him  home,  I  happened  to  say  to 
him,  "  You  ought  to  be  pleased,  Victor  Hugo  is  in  the  same 
regiment  with  you."  "  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  he  is  in  the 
band."  He  would  never  accept  a  pension  from  Louis- N^apo- 
leon,  but  he  had  no  bitterness  against  him.  Lamartine  was 
very  bitter,  and  yet  consented  to  the  Emperor's  heading  of 
the  subscription-list  in  his  behalf.  That  alone  would  show 
the  difference  between  the  two  men. 


SOME   MEN  OF  THE  EMPIRE.  261 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Some  men  of  the  Empire — Fialin  de  Persigny — The  public  prosecutor's  opinion 
of  him  expressed  at  the  trial  for  high  treason  m  1836— Superior  in  many 
respects  to  Louis-Napoleon — The  revival  of  the  Empire  his  only  and  con- 
stant dream — In  order  to  realize  it,  he  appeals  first  to  Jerome,  ex-King  of 
Westphalia — De  Persigny's  estimate  of  hmi — Jerome's  greed  and  Louis- 
Napoleon's  generosity — De  Persigny's  financial  embarrassments — His  char- 
ity— What  the  Empire  reallv  meant  to  him — De  Persigny  virtually  the 
moving  spirit  in  the  Coup  d'fitat — Louis-Napoleon  mi^ht  have  been  satis- 
fied with  the  presidency  of  the  republic  for  life — Persigny  seeks  for  aid  in 
England — Palmerston's  share  in  the  Coup  d'Etat — The  submarine  cable — 
Preparations  for  the  Coup  d'Etat — A  warning  of  it  sent  to  England — Count 
Walewski  issues  invitations  for  a  dinner-party  on  the  2nd  of  December — 
Opinion  in  London  that  Louis-Napoleon  will  get  the  worst  in  the  struggle 
with  the  Chamber — The  last  funds  from  London — General  de  Saint- Amaud 
and  Baron  Lacrosse — The  Elys^e-Bourbon  on  the  evening  of  the  1st  of 
December — I  pass  the  Elysee  at  midnight — Nothing  unusual — Loudon  on 
the  2nd  of  December — The  dinner  at  Count  Walewski's  put  oft  at  the  last 
moment — Illuminations  at  the  French  Embassy  a  few  hours  later — Palmer- 
Bton  at  the  Embassy — Some  traits  of  De  Persigny's  character — His  personal 
affection  for  Louis-Napoleon — Madame  de  Persigny — Her  parsimony — Her 
cooking  of  the  household  accounts — Chevet  and  Madame  de  Persigny — 
What  tbe  Empire  might  have  been  with  a  Von  Moltke  by  the  side  of  the 
Emperor  instead  of  vaillant,  Niel,  and  Leboeuf — Colonel  (afterwards  Gen- 
eral) Fleury  the  only  modest  man  among  the  Emperor's  entourage — De 
Persigny's  pretensions  as  a  Heaven-born  statesman — Mgr.  de  Merode — De 
Morny — His  first  meeting  with  his  half-brother — De  Mornj'  as  a  grand 
seigneur — The  origin  of  the  Mexican  campaign — Walewski — His  itxds — 
Rouher — My  first  sight  of  him  in  the  Quartier-Latin — The  Emperor's 
opinion  of  him  at  the  beginning  of  his  career — Rouher  in  his  native  home, 
Auvergne — His  marriage— Madame  Rouher — His  father-in-law. 

"  A  MAN"  endowed  with  a  strong  will  and  energy,  active 
and  intelligent  to  a  degree,  with  the  faculty  of  turning  up  at 
every  spot  where  his  presence  was  necessary  either  to  revive 
the  lagging  plot  or  to  gain  fresh  adherents ;  a  man  better 
acquainted  than  all  the  rest  with  the  secret  springs  upon 
which  the  conspiracy  hung." 

This  description  of  M.  de  Persigny  is  borrowed  from  the 
indictment  at  the  trial  for  high  treason  in  1836.  Every  par- 
ticular of  it  is  correct,  yet  it  is  a  very  one-sided  diagnosis  of 
the  character  of  Napoleon's  staunchest  henchman.  If  I  had 
had  to  paint  him  morally  and  mentally  in  one  line,  I  should. 


2G2  AX  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

witliout  intending  to  be  irreverent,  have  called  him  the  John 
the  Baptist  of  the  revived  Napoleonic  legend.  There  could 
be  no  doubt  about  his  energy,  his  activity,  and  his  intelli- 
gence ;  in  respect  to  the  former  two  he  was  absolutely  supe- 
rior to  Louis- Napoleon,  but  they,  the  activity  and  energy  and 
intelligence,  would  only  respond  to  the  bidding  of  one  voice, 
that  of  the  first  Napoleon  from  the  grave,  which,  he  felt  sure, 
had  appointed  him  the  chief  instrument  for  the  restoration 
of  the  Empire.  It  was  the  dream  that  haunted  his  sleep, 
that  pursued  him  when  awake.  Let  it  not  be  thought,  though, 
that  Louis- Napoleon  appeared  to  him  as  the  one  selected  by 
Providence  to  realize  that  dream.  Loyal  and  faithful  as  he 
was  to  him  from  the  day  they  met  until  his  (Persigny's) 
death,  he  would  have  been  equally  loyal  and  faithful,  though 
perhaps  not  so  deeply  attached,  to  Jerome,  the  ex-King  of 
Westphalia,  to  whom  he  appealed  first.  But  the  youngest  of 
the  great  Napoleon's  brothers  did  not  relish  adventures,  and 
he  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  Persigny's  proposals,  as  he  did  later 
on  to  those  of  M.  Thiers,  who  wished  him  to  become  a  candi- 
date for  the  presidency  of  the  Second  Republic. 

I  was  talking  one  day  on  the  subject  of  the  latter's  refusal 
to  De  Persigny,  several  years  after  the  advent  of  the  Empire, 
and  commending  Jerome  for  his  abnegation  of  self  and  his 
fealty  to  his  nephew.  There  was  a  sneer  on  Persigny's  face 
such  as  I  had  never  seen  there  before ;  for  though  he  was  by 
no  means  good-tempered,  and  frequently  very  violent,  he 
generally  left  the  members  of  the  Imperial  family  alone.  He 
noticed  my  surprise,  and  explained  at  once.  "  It  is  very  evi- 
dent that  you  do  not  know  Jerome,  nor  did  I  until  a  few 
years  ago.  There  is  not  a  single  one  of  the  great  Napoleon's 
brothers  who  really  had  his  glory  at  heart ;  it  meant  money 
and  position  to  them,  that  is  all.  Do  you  know  why  Jerome 
did  not  fall  in  with  my  views  and  those  of  M.  Thiers  ?  Well, 
I  will  tell  you.  He  was  afraid  that  his  nephew  Louis  and  the 
rest  of  the  family  would  be  a  burden  on  him ;  he  preferred 
that  others  should  take  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire  and  that 
he  should  have  the  eating  of  them.  That  is  what  his  self- 
abnegation  meant,  nothing  more." 

I  am  afraid  that  De  Persigny  was  not  altogether  wrong  in 
his  estimate  of  the  ex-King  of  Westphalia.  He  was  insa- 
tiable in  his  demands  for  money  to  his  nephew.  In  fact,  with 
the  exception  of  Princesse  Mathilde,  the  whole  of  the  Em- 
peror's family  was  a  thorn  in  his  side. 


PERSIGNY  AND  THE  COUP  D'ETAT.  263 

The  Emperor  himself  was  absolutely  incapable  of  refusing 
a  service.  I  have  the  following  story  on  very  good  authority. 
De  Persigny,  who  was  as  lavish  as  his  Imperial  master,  was 
rarely  ever  out  of  difficulties,  and  in  such  emergencies  natu- 
rally appealed  to  the  latter.  He  had  wasted  on,  or  sunk 
enormous  sums  in,  his  country  estate  of  Chamarande,  where 
he  entertained  with  boundless  hospitality.  As  a  matter  of 
course,  he  was  always  being  pursued  by  his  creditors.  One 
early  morn — Persigny  always  went  betimes  when  he  wanted 
money — he  made  his  appearance  in  the  Emperor's  private 
room,  looking  sad  and  dejected.  Napoleon  refrained  for  a 
while  from  questioning  him  as  to  the  cause  of  his  low  spirits, 
but  finally  ventured  to  say  that  he  looked  ill. 

"  Ah,  sire,"  Avas  the  answer,  "  I  am  simply  bent  down  with 
sorrow.  This  Chamarande,  which  I  have  created  out  of  noth- 
ing as  it  were  " — it  had  cost  nearly  two  millions  of  francs — 
"  is  ruining  me.     I  shall  be  forced  to  give  it  up." 

De  Persigny  felt  sure  that  he  would  be  told  there  and 
then  not  to  worry  himself ;  but  the  Emperor  was  in  a  jocu- 
lar mood,  and  took  delight  in  prolonging  his  anxiety.  "  Be- 
lieve me,  my  dear  due,"  said  Napoleon  with  an  assumed  air 
of  indiiference,  "  it  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do.  Get  rid  of 
Chamarande ;  it  is  too  great  a  burden,  and  you'll  breathe 
more  freely  when  it's  gone." 

De  Persigny  turned  as  white  as  a  ghost ;  whereupon  Na- 
poleon, who  was  soft-hearted  to  a  degree,  took  a  bundle  of 
notes  from  his  drawer  and  handed  them  to  him.  De  Per- 
signy went  away  beaming. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  that  De  Persigny  was 
grasping  like  Prince  Jerome  and  others,  who  constantly 
drained  Napoleon's  purse.  De  Persigny's  charity  was  pro- 
verbial, but  he  gave  blindly,  and  as  a  consequence,  was  fre- 
quently imposed  upon.  When  young  he  had  joined  the 
Saint-Simoniens ;  his  great  aim  was  to  make  everybody  happy. 
To  him  the  restoration  of  the  Empire  meant  not  only  the  re- 
vival of  Napoleon's  glory,  but  the  era  of  universal  happiness, 
of  universal  material  prosperity.  As  a  rule,  he  was  thorough- 
ly unpractical ;  the  whole  of  his  life's  work  may  be  summed 
up  in  one  line — he  conceived  and  organized  the  Coup  d'Etat. 
As  such  he  was  virtually  the  founder  of  the  Second  Empire. 
In  that  task  practice  went  hand  in  hand  with  theory ;  when 
the  task  was  accomplished,  his  inspiration  was  utterly  at  fault. 

Historians  have  been  generally  content  to  attribute  the 


264  AN  ENGLISHMAN   IN   PARIS. 

principal  r61e  in  the  Coup  d'Etat,  next  to  that  of  Louis-Na- 
poleon, to  M.  de  Morny.  Of  course,  I  am  speaking  of  those 
who  conceived  it,  not  of  those  who  executed  it.  The  parts 
of  Generals  Magnan  and  De  Saint- Arnaud,  of  Colonel  de  Be- 
ville  and  M.  de  Maupas,  scarcely  admit  of  discussion.  But  the 
fact  is  that  De  Morny  did  comparatively  nothing  as  far  as  the 
conception  was  concerned.  The  prime  mover  was  undoubtedly 
De  Persigny,  and  it  is  a  very  moot  question  whether,  but  for 
him,  it  would  have  been  conceived  at  all.  I  know  I  am  tread- 
ing on  dangerous  ground,  but  I  have  very  good  authority  for 
the  whole  of  the  following  notes  relating  to  it.  In  De  Per- 
signy's  mind  the  whole  of  the  scheme  was  worked  out  prior  to 
Louis- Napoleon's  election  to  the  presidency,  though  of  course 
the  success  of  it  depended  on  that  election.  He  did  not  want 
a  republic,  even  with  Louis-Napoleon  as  a  president  for  life  ; 
he  wanted  an  empire.  I  should  not  like  to  affirm  that  Prince 
Louis  would  not  have  been  content  with  such  a  position ;  it  was 
Persigny  who  put  down  his  foot,  exclaiming,  "Aut  CcBsar, 
aut  nullus  !  "  That  the  sentence  fell  upon  willing  ears,  there 
IS  equally  no  doubt,  and  when  the  Prince-President  had  his 
foot  upon  the  first  rung  of  the  ladder,  he  would  probably  have 
rushed,  or  endeavoured  to  rush,  to  the  top  at  once,  regardless 
of  the  risk  involved  in  this  perilous  ascent,  for  there  would 
have  been  no  one,  absolutely  no  one,  to  steady  the  ladder  at 
the  bottom.  De  Persigny  held  him  back  while  he  busied 
himself  in  finding  not  only  the  personnel  that  was  to  hold 
the  latter,  but  the  troops  that  would  prevent  the  crowd  from 
interfering  with  the  ladder-holders.  It  was  he  who  was  the 
first  to  broach  the  recall  of  De  Saint- Arnaud  from  Africa ;  it 
was  he  who  drew  attention  to  M.  de  Maupas,  then  little 
more  than  an  obscure  prefect ;  it  was  he  who  was  wise  enough 
to  see  that  "  the  ladder-holders  "  would  have  to  be  sought  for 
in  England,  and  not  in  France.  "  The  English,"  he  said  to 
Napoleon, "  owe  you  a  good  turn  for  the  harm  they  have  done 
to  your  uncle.  They  are  sufficiently  generous  or  sufficiently 
sensible  to  do  that  good  turn,  if  it  is  in  their  interest  to  do 
so  ;  look  for  your  support  among  the  English." 

I  fancy  it  was  Lord  Palmerston's  dislike  of  Louis-Philippe 
on  account  of  "  the  Spanish  marriages,"  rather  than  a  senti- 
ment of  generosity  towards  Louis-Napoleon,  that  made  him 
espouse  his  cause,  but  I  feel  certain  that  he  did  espouse  it.  I 
have  good  ground  for  saying  that  his  interviews  with  Comte 
Walewski  were  much  more  frequent  than  his  ministerial  col- 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  COUP  D'ETAT.  265 

leagues  suspected,  or  the  relations  between  England  and 
France,  however  friendly  they  may  have  been,  warranted. 
But  everything  was  not  ready.  Palmerston  and  "Walewski 
on  the  English  side  of  the  Channel,  Louis-Napoleon  and  De 
Persigny  on  the  French  side,  were  waiting  for  something. 
AVhat  was  it?  Nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  laying  of 
the  submarine  cable  between  Dover  and  Calais,  the  con- 
cession for  which  was  given  on  the  8th  of  January,  1851,  and 
on  which  occasion  the  last  words  to  Mr.  Walker  Breit  were 
to  hurry  it  on  as  much  as  possible,  "  seeing  that  it  is  of  the 
utmost  importance  for  th^  French  Government  to  he  in  direct 
and  rapid  communication  with  the  Cabinet  of  St.  James^ 
The  Cabinet  meant  Lord  Palmerston.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
not  until  ten  months  later  that  the  cable  is  laid,  and  from 
that  moment  events  march  apace.  Let  us  glance  at  them  for 
a  moment.  Telegraphic  communication  between  Dover  and 
Calais  is  established  on  the  13th  of  November.  On  the  15th, 
General  Saint- Arnaud  gives  orders  that  the  degree  of  1849, 
conferring  on  the  president  of  the  National  Assembly  the 
right  of  summoning  and  disposing  of  the  military  forces 
which  had  hitherto  been  hung  up  in  every  barracks  through- 
out the  land,  shall  be  taken  down.  On  the  16th,  Changar- 
nier,  Leflo,  and  Baze,  with  many  others,  decide  that  a  bill 
shall  be  introduced  immediately,  conferring  once  more  that 
right  on  the  president  of  the  Assembly.  The  opponents  of 
the  Prince-President  are  already  rubbing  their  hands  with 
glee  at  the  thought  of  their  success,  for  it  means  that  Prince 
Louis  and  his  adherents  will  be  in  their  power,  and  in  their 
power  means  removal  to  Vincennes  or  elsewhere,  as  prisoners 
of  State.  On  the  18th,  the  bill  is  thrown  out  by  a  majority 
of  108,  and  the  Assembly  is  virtually  powerless  henceforth 
against  any  and  every  attack  from  the  military.  It  was  on 
that  very  evening  that  the  date  of  the  Coup  d'Etat  was  fixed 
for  the  2nd  of  December,  notwithstanding  the  hesitation  and 
wavering  of  Louis-Napoleon.  On  the  26th  a  young  attache 
is  despatched  from  the  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs  to  the 
French  Embassy  in  London,  instead  of  the  ordinary  cabinet 
(or  queen's)  messenger,  which  proves  that  the  despatches  are 
more  important  than  usual.  They  contain  letters  from  the 
Prince-President  himself  to  Comte  Walewski,  the  contents  of 
which  are  probably  known  to  the  Marquis  de  Turgot,  but 
which  are  despatched  in  that  way,  instead  of  being  sent  di- 
rectly from  the  Elysee  by  a  trustworthy  person,  because  the 

12 


266  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

presidential  residence  is  watched  day  and  night  by  the  "  coun- 
ter-police "  of  the  Assembly.  The  reason  why  the  Marquis 
de  Turgot  selects  a  young  aristocrat  is  because  he  feels  cer- 
tain that  he  cannot  be  tampered  with.  On  the  29th  of  Iso- 
vember  a  connection  of  mine  receives  a  letter  from  a  friend 
in  London,  who  is  supposed  to  be  behind  the  scenes,  but  who 
this  time  is  utterly  in  the  dark.  It  is  to  the  following  effect : 
"  There  is  something  in  the  wind,  but  I  know  not  what. 
Both  yesterday  morning  (27th)  and  to-day  Walewski  has 
been  closeted  for  more  than  two  hours  each  time  with  Pal- 
merston.  There  is  to  be  a  grand  dinner  at  Walewski's  on  the 
second  of  next  month,  to  which  I  received  an  invitation.  Can 
you  tell  me  what  mischief  is  brewing  ?  " 

The  recipient  of  the  letter  was  neither  better  nor  worse 
informed  than  the  rest  of  us,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  assertions 
to  the  contrary  which  have  been  made  since,  no  one  foresaw 
the  crisis  in  the  shape  it  came  upon  us.  On  the  contrary,  the 
general  opinion  was  that  in  the  end  Louis-Napoleon  would 
get  the  worse,  in  spite  of  the  magic  influence  of  his  name 
with  the  army.  It  was  expected  that  if  the  troops  were  called 
upon  to  act  against  the  National  Assembly,  they  would  re- 
fuse and  turn  against  their  leaders.  I  am  by  no  means  cer- 
tain that  the  Prince-President  did  not  entertain  a  similar 
opinion  up  to  the  last  moment,  for  I  have  it  on  excellent 
authority  that  as  late  as  the  26th  of  November  he  endeav- 
oured to  postpone  the  affair  for  a  month.  It  was  then  that 
De  Persigny  showed  his  teeth,  and  insisted  upon  the  night 
of  the  1st  or  2nd  of  December  as  the  latest.  The  interview 
was  a  very  stormy  one.  On  that  very  morning  De  Persigny 
had  received  a  letter  from  London,  not  addressed  to  his 
residence.  It  contained  a  draft  for  £2000,  but  with  the  inti- 
mation that  these  would  be  the  last  funds  forthcoming.  He 
showed  the  Prince-President  the  letter,  and  Napoleon  gave  in 
there  and  then.  The  lettei*s  spoken  of  just  now  were  de- 
spatched on  the  same  day.  It  was  with  that  money  that  the 
Coup  d'Etat  was  made,  and  all  the  stories  about  a  million 
and  a  half  of  francs  being  handed  respectively  to  De  Morny, 
De  Maupas,  Saint-Arnaud,  and  the  rest  are  so  much  in- 
vention. 

Up  to  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  1st  of  December, 
General  de  Saint-Arnaud  was  virtually  undecided,  not  with 
regard  to  the  necessity  of  the  Coup  d'Etat,  but  with  regard 
to  the  opportuneness  of  it  within  the  next  twelve  hours,     I 


LOUDON  ON  THE  DAY  OP  THE  COUP  D'jfcTAT.  267 

have  the  following  story  from  the  lips  of  Baron  Lacrosse, 
who  was  one  of  the  actors  in  it.  On  the  eve  of  the  Coup 
d'Etat  he  was  Minister  of  Public  Works,  and  as  such  was 
present  at  the  sitting  of  the  Assembly  on  the  1st  of  December. 
A  member  ascended  the  tribune  to  interpellate  the  Minister 
for  Wai',  and,  the  latter  being  absent,  the  question  was  de- 
ferred until  next  day.  That  same  evening,  1st  of  December, 
there  was  an  official  dinner  at  M.  Daviel's,  the  Minister  of 
Justice,  and  at  the  termination  of  the  sitting,  M.  Lacrosse 
called  in  his  carriage  at  the  Ministry  for  War  to  take  his  col- 
league. "  You  may  make  up  your  mind  for  a  warm  half- 
hour  to-morrow,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  as  he  entered  General 
Saint- Arnaud's  room.  "W^hy?"  asked  the  general.  "You 
are  going  to  be  interpellated."  "  I  expected  as  much,  and 
was  just  considering  my  answer.  I  am  glad  you  warned  me 
in  time.     1  think  I  know  what  to  say  now." 

I  do  not  believe  that  Baron  Lacrosse  had  the  faintest  ink- 
ling of  the  real  drift  of  the  remark,  nor  have  I  ever  asked  him 
directly  whether  he  had.  As  far  as  I  could  gather  afterwards 
from  one  or  two  people  who  were  there,  the  Elysee  presented 
no  unusual  feature  that  night.  The  reception  was  well  at- 
tended, as  the  ordinary  receptions  on  Mondays  generally  were, 
for  the  times  had  gone  by  when  the  courtyard  was  a  howling 
wilderness  dotted  with  two,  or  perhaps  three,  hackney  cabs. 
It  would  appear  that  a  great  many  well-known  men  and  a 
corresponding  number  of  pretty  women  moved  as  usual 
through  the  salons,  only  one  of  which  was  shut  up,  that  at 
the  very  end  of  the  suite,  and  which  did  duty  as  a  council- 
chamber,  and  contained  the  portrait  of  the  then  young  Em- 
peror of  Austria,  Francis-Joseph.  But  this  was  scarcely 
noticed,  nor  did  the  early  withdrawal  of  the  Prince-President 
provoke  any  comment,  for  it  happened  pretty  often.  Very 
certain  is  it  that  at  twelve  o'clock  that  night  the  Elysee  was 
wrapt  in  darkness,  for  I  happened  to  pass  there  at  that  hour. 
Standing  at  the  door,  or  rather  inside  it,  was  the  captain  of 
the  guard,  smoking  a  cigar,  I  believe  it  was  Captain  De- 
Bondes  of  the  "  Guides,"  but  I  will  not  be  sure,  for  I  was  not 
near  enough  to  distinguish  plainly.  The  Faubourg  St,  Ho- 
nore  was  pretty  well  deserted,  save  for  a  few  individuals 
prowling  about ;  they  were  probably  detectives  in  the  pay  of 
the  Prince- President's  adversaries. 

Let  me  return  for  a  moment  to  London,  and  give  an  ac- 
count of  what  happened  there  on  the  2nd  of  December,  as 


268  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

supplied  by  the  writer  of  the  above-mentioned  letter,  in  an 
epistle  which  reached  Paris  only  on  the  7th. 

It  appears  that  on  the  day  of  the  Coup  d'Etat  London 
woke  up  amidst  a  dense  fog.  Virtually  the  news  of  what 
happened  in  Paris  early  that  morning  did  not  spread  until 
between  two  and  three  o'clock.  Our  informant  had  been  in- 
vited to  a  dinner-party  at  the  French  Embassy  that  night, 
and  though  in  no  way  actively  connected  with  politics,  he 
was  asking  himself  whether  he  should  go  or  stay  away,  when, 
at  five  o'clock,  he  received  a  note  from  the  Embassy,  saying 
that  the  dinner  would  not  take  place.  The  fact  was  that  at 
the  eleventh  hour  the  whole  of  the  corps  diplomatique  had 
sent  excuses.  Our  friend  went  to  his  club,  had  his  dinner, 
and  spent  part  of  the  evening  there.  At  about  eleven  a  crony 
of  his  came  in,  and  seeing  him  seated  in  the  smoking-room, 
exclaimed,  "  Why,  I  thought  you  were  going  to  Walewski's 
dinner  and  reception."  "  So  I  was,"  remarked  our  friend, 
"  but  it  was  countermanded  at  five."  "  Countermanded  ? 
Why,  I  passed  the  Embassy  just  now,  and  it  was  blazing  with 
light.     Come  and  look." 

They  took  a  cab,  and  sure  enough  the  building  was  posi- 
tively illuminated.  Our  friend  went  in,  and  the  salons  were 
crammed  to  suffocation.  Lord  Palmerston  was  talking  ani- 
matedly to  Count  Walewski ;  the  whole  corps  diplomatique 
accredited  to  the  court  of  St.  James  was  there.  The  fact 
was  that  about  nine  or  half -past  the  most  favourable  news 
from  Paris  had  reached  London.  The  report  soon  spread 
that  Lord  Palmerston  had  officially  adhered  to  the  Coup 
d'Etat,  and  that  he  had  telegraphed  in  that  sense  to  the  vari- 
ous English  embassies  abroad  without  even  consulting  his 
fellow-ministers. 

I  believe  our  friend  was  correctly  informed,  for  it  is  well 
known  that  Palmerston  did  not  resign,  but  was  virtually  dis- 
missed from  office.  He  never  went  to  Windsor  to  give  up 
the  seals ;  Lord  John  Russell  had  to  do  it  for  him.  Persigny, 
therefore,  considered  that  he  had  fallen  in  the  cause  of  Louis- 
Napoleon,  and  as  such  he  became  little  short  of  an  idol.  The 
Prince- President  himself  was  not  far  from  sharing  in  that 
worship.  Not  once,  but  a  hundred  times,  his  familiars  have 
heard  him  say,  "  Avec  Palmerston  on  pent  faire  des  grandes 
choses."  Nevertheless,  Palmerston  appealed  more  to  De  Per- 
signy's  imagination  than  to  Louis-Napoleon's.  Af tw"  all,  he 
was  perhaps  much  more  of  a  Kichelieu  than  a  constitutional 


DE  PERSIGNY  AND  LOUIS  NAPOLEON.  269 

minister  in  a  constitutional  country  has  a  right  to  be  now-a- 
days,  and  that  was  what  Persigny  admired  above  all  things. 
His  long  stay  in  England  had  by  no  means  removed  his  in- 
herent dislike  to  parliamentary  government,  and,  rightly  or 
wrongly,  he  credited  Palmerston  with  a  similar  sentiment. 

De  Persigny  was  amiable  and  obliging  enough,  provided 
one  knew  how  to  manage  him,  and  with  those  Avhom  he  liked, 
but  exceedingly  thin-skinned  and  often  violent  with  those 
whom  he  disliked.  He  was,  moreover,  very  jealous  with  re- 
gard to  Louis-N"apoleon's  affection  for  him.  I  doubt  whether 
he  really  minded  the  influence  wielded  by  the  Empress,  De 
Morny,  and  Walewski  over  the  Emperor,  but  he  grudged 
them  their  place  in  the  Emperor's  heart.  This  was  essen- 
tially the  case  with  regard  to  the  former.  He  would  have 
been  glad  to  see  his  old  friend  and  Imperial  master  contract 
a  loveless  marriage  with  some  insignificant  German  or  Rus- 
sian princess,  who  would  have  borne  her  husband  few  or  many 
children,  in  order  to  secure  the  safety  of  the  dynasty,  but  the 
passion  that  prompted  the  union  with  Eugenie  de  Montijo  he 
considered  virtually  as  an  injury  to  himself.  I  give  his  opin- 
ion on  that  subject  in  English,  because,  though  expressed  in 
French,  it  had  certainly  been  inspired  by  his  sojourn  in  Eng- 
land. "  When  love  invades  a  man's  heart,  there  is  scarcely 
any  room  left  for  friendship.  You  cannot  drive  love  for  a 
woman  and  friendship  for  a  man  in  double  harness,  you  are 
obliged  to  drive  them  tandem ;  and  what  is  worse  in  a  case 
like  that  of  the  Emperor,  friendship  becomes  the  leader  and 
love  the  wheeler.  Of  course,  to  the  outsider,  friendship  has 
the  place  of  honour ;  in  reality,  love,  the  wheeler,  is  in  closest 
contact  with  the  driver  and  the  vehicle,  and  can,  moreover, 
have  a  sly  kick  at  friendship,  the  leader.  Personally,  I  am  an 
exception — I  may  say  a  phenomenal  exception — because  my 
affection  for  the  Emperor  is  as  strong  as  my  love  for  my 
wife." 

Those  who  knew  both  the  Emperor  and  Madame  de  Per- 
signy might  have  fitly  argued  that  this  equal  division  of 
affection  was  a  virtual  injustice  to  the  sovereign,  who  was 
decidedly  more  amiable  than  the  spouse.  The  former  rarely 
did  a  spiteful  thing  from  personal  motives  of  revenge;  I 
only  know  of  two.  He  never  invited  Lady  Jersey  to  the 
Tuileries  during  the  Empire,  because  she  had  shown  her  dis- 
like of  him  when  he  was  in  London ;  he  exiled  David  d' An- 
gers because  the  sculjDtor  had  refused  to  finish  the  monu- 


270  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

ment  of  Queen  Hortense  after  the  Coup-d'Etat.  David 
d' Angers  was  one  of  the  noblest  creatures  that  ever  lived, 
and  I  mean  to  speak  of  him  at  greater  length.  On  the  other 
hand,  Madame  de  Persigny  made  her  husband's  life,  not- 
withstanding his  love  for  her,  a  burden  by  her  whimsical  dis- 
position, her  vindictive  temperament,  and  her  cheeseparing 
in  everything  except  her  own  lavish  expenditure  on  dress. 
She  was  v/hat  the  French  call  "une  femme  qui  fait  des 
scenes ; "  she  almost  prided  herself  upon  being  superior  in 
birth  to  her  husband,  though  in  that  respect  there  was  really 
not  a  pin  to  choose  between  her  grandfather,  Michel  Ney, 
the  stable-boy,  who  had  risen  to  be  a  duke  of  the  First  Em- 
pire, and  her  husband,  the  sergeant-quartermaster  Fialin, 
who  became  Due  de  Persigny  under  the  second.  She  was 
always  advocating  retrenchment  in  the  household.  "  True," 
said  Persigny,  "  she  cuts  down  her  dresses  too,  but  the  more 
she  cuts,  the  more  they  cost."  For  in  his  angry  moments  he 
would  now  and  then  tell  a  story  against  his  wife.  Here  is 
one.  Persigny,  as  I  have  already  said,  was  hospitable  to  a 
fault,  but  he  had  always  to  do  battle  when  projecting  a  grand 
entertainment.  "  There  was  so  much  trouble  with  the  serv- 
ants, and  as  for  the  chef,  his  extravagance  knew  no  bounds." 
So  said  madame ;  and  sick  at  last  of  always  hearing  the 
same  complaints,  he  decided  to  let  Chevet  provide.  All 
went  well  at  first,  because  he  himself  went  to  the  Palais- 
Eoyal  to  give  his  orders,  merely  stating  the  number  of  guests, 
and  leaving  the  rest  to  the  famous  caterers,  than  whom  there 
are  no  more  obliging  or  conscientious  purveyors  anywhere. 
After  a  little  while  he  began  to  leave  the  arrangements  to 
madame ;  she  herself  sent  out  the  invitations,  so  there  could 
be  no  mistake  with  regard  to  the  number.  He  soon  per- 
ceived, however,  that  the  dinners,  if  not  inferior  in  quality 
to  the  former  ones,  were  decidedly  inferior  in  quantity.  At 
last,  one  evening,  when  there  were  twenty-six  people  round 
the  board,  there  was  not  enough  for  twenty,  and  next  day 
De  Persigny  took  the  road  to  the  Palais-Eoyal  once  more 
to  lodge  his  complaint  personally.  "  Comment,  monsieur  le 
comte,"  was  the  reply  of  one  of  the  principals,  "  vous  dites 
qu'il  y  avait  vingt-six  convives  et  qu'il  n'y  avait  pas  de  quoi 
nourrir  vingt ;  je  vous  crois  parfaitement ;  voila  la  com- 
mande  de  madame  la  comtesse,  copiee  dans  notre  registre : 
'  Diner  chez  M.  de  Persigny  pour  seize  personnes.'  " 

Madame  had  simply  pocketed,  or  intended  to  pocket,  fif- 


DE  PERSIGNY  AND  HIS  WIFE.  271 

teen  hundred  francs — for  Clievet  rarely  charged  less  than  a 
hundred  and  fifty  francs  per  head,  wines  included — and  had 
endeavoured  to  make  the  food  for  sixteen  do  for  twenty-six. 
Of  course  there  was  a  scene.  Madame  promised  amendment, 
and  the  husband  was  only  too  willing  to  believe.  The  amend- 
ment was  worse  than  the  original  offence,  for  one  night  the 
whole  of  the  supper-table,  set  out  a  la  Fran9aise,  i.  e.,  with 
everything  on  it,  gave  way,  because,  her  own  dining-table 
having  proved  too  small,  she  had  declined  Chevet's  offer  of 
providing  one  at  a  cost  of  seven  or  eight  francs,  and  sent  for 
a  jobbing  carpenter  to  put  together  some  boards  and  trestles 
at  the  cost  of  two  francs.  Chevet  managed  to  provide  an- 
other banquet  within  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  which,  with 
the  one  that  had  been  spoiled,  was  put  in  the  bill.  Within 
a  comparatively  short  time  of  her  husband's  death,  early  in 
the  seventies,  Madame  de  Persigny  contracted  a  second  mar- 
riage, in  direct  opposition  to  the  will  of  her  family. 

Most  of  the  men  in  the  immediate  entourage  of  the  Em- 
peror were  intoxicated  with  their  sudden  leap  into  power, 
but  of  course  the  intoxication  manifested  itself  in  different 
ways.  A  good  many  considered  themselves  the  composers  of 
the  Napoleonic  Opera — for  it  was  really  such  in  the  way  it 
held  the  stage  of  France  for  eighteen  years,  the  usual  tragic 
finale  not  even  being  wanting.  With  the  exception  of  De 
Persigny,  they  were  in  reality  but  the  orchestral  performers, 
and  he,  to  give  him  his  utmost  due,  was  only  the  orchestra- 
tor  of  the  score  and  part  author  of  the  libretto.  The  origi- 
nal themes  had  been  composed  by  the  exile  of  St.  Helena, 
and  were  so  powerfully  attractive  to,  and  so  constantly  haunt- 
ing, the  ears  of  the  majority  of  Frenchmen  as  to  have  re- 
quired no  outward  aid  to  remembrance  for  thirty-five  years, 
though  I  do  not  forget  either  Thiers'  works,  Victor  Hugo's 
poetry,  Louis-Philippe's  generous  transfer  of  the  great  cap- 
tain's remains  to  France,  nor  Louis-Napoleon's  own  attempts 
at  Strasburg  and  Boulogne,  all  of  which  contributed  to  that 
effect.  Nevertheless,  all  the  artisans  of  the  Coup  d'Etat 
considered  themselves  nearly  as  great  geniuses  as  the  intel- 
lectual and  military  giant  who  conceived  and  executed  the 
19th  Brumaire,  and  pretended  to  impose  their  policy  upon 
Europe  by  imposing  their  will  upon  the  Emperor,  though 
not  one  could  hold  a  candle  to  him  in  statecraft.  Napoleon 
with  a  Moltke  by  his  side  would  have  been  a  match  for  Bis- 
marck, and  the  left  bank  of  the  Khine  might  have  been 


272  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

French ;  Alsace-Lorraine  would  certainly  not  have  been  Ger- 
man. It  is  not  my  purpose,  however,  to  enter  upon  politics. 
I  repeat,  De  Persigny,  De  Momy,  and  to  a  certain  extent 
Walewski,  endeavoured  to  exalt  themselves  into  political  Na- 
poleons at  all  times  and  seasons ;  De  Saint- Arnaud  felt  con- 
vinced that  the  strategical  mantle  of  the  great  warrior  had 
fallen  upon  him ;  De  Maupas  fancied  himself  another  Fouche. 
The  only  one  who  was  really  free  from  pretensions  of  either 
kind  was  Colonel  (afterwards  General)  Fleury.  He  was  the 
only  modest  man  among  the  lot. 

The  greatest  offender  in  that  way  was,  no  doubt,  De  Per- 
signy. During  his  journey  to  Rome  in  1866  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  tender  his  political  advice  to  such  past  masters  in 
diplomacy  as  Pius  IX.  and  Cardinal  Antonelli.  Both  pre- 
tended to  profit  by  the  lesson,  but  Mgr.  de  M  erode,*  who  was 
not  quite  so  patient,  had  many  an  animated  discussion  with 
him,  in  which  De  Persigny  frequently  got  the  worst.  One 
evening  the  latter  thought  fit  to  twit  him  with  his  pugna- 
ciousness.  "  I  suppose,  monsignor,"  he  said,  *'  it's  the  ancient 
leaven  of  the  trooper  getting  the  upper  hand  now  and  then." 
"  True,"  replied  the  prelate ;  "  I  was  a  captain  in  the  foreign 
legion,  and  fought  in  Africa,  where  I  got  my  cross  of  the 
Legion  of  Honour.  But  you,  monsieur  le  due,  I  fancy  I 
have  heard  that  you  were  more  or  less  of  a  sergeant-quarter- 
master in  a  cavalry  regiment." 

Mgr.  de  Merode  could  have  done  De  Persigny  no  greater 
injury  than  to  remind  him  of  his  humble  origin.  He  al- 
ways winced  under  such  allusions ;  his  constant  preoccupa- 
tion was  to  make  people  forget  it,  and  he  often  exposed  him- 
self to  ridicule  in  the  attempt.  He  knew  nothing  about  art, 
and  yet  he  would  speak  about  it,  not  as  if  he  had  studied  the 

*  Frederic  Xavier  de  Merode  was  the  descendant  of  an  ancient  Flemish 
family,  and  became  an  influential  member  of  the  Prelatura.  He  took  an  active 
share  in  the  organization  of  the  Papal  troops  which  fought  at  Mentana.  Tliere 
is  a  romantic  but  absolutely  true  story  connected  with  his  military  career.  He 
was  from  his  very  youth  intended  for  the  priesthood,  but  one  day,  when  he  was 
but  nineteen,  he  had  a  quaiTel  with  a  fellow-student,  who  gave  him  a  box  on 
the  ears.  M.  de  Merode  was  too  conscientious  a  Catholic  to  fight  a  duel,  and 
still  his  pride  forbade  him  to  remain  under  the  imputation  of  being  a  coward. 
So  he  ennsted  fli-st  in  a  Belgian,  subsequently  in  a  foreign  regiment,  and  proved 
his  courage.  He  was  very  hot-tempered,  and  had  frequent  disagreements  with 
Generals  Xamoriciere  and  De  Guyon,  and  even  with  Pius  IX.  himself,  who,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  promulgation  of  the  decree  of  infallibility,  positively  forbade 
him  to  enter  the  Vatican  again.  But  he  soon  afterwards  made  his  peace  with 
the  Pontiff.  His  worst  enemies — and  he  had  many — never  questioned  his  sin- 
cerity and  loyalty. — Editob. 


DE  MORNY.  273 

subject,  but  as  if  he  had  been  brought  up  in  a  refined  society, 
where  the  atmosphere  had  been  impregnated  with  it.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  he  became  an  easy  victim  to  the  picture- 
dealers  and  bric-a-brac  merchants.  I  remember  his  silver 
being  taken  to  the  mint  during  the  Siege.  He  had  paid  an 
enormous  price  for  it  on  the  dealer's  representation  that  it 
was  antique :  "  C'est  du  Louis  XV.  tout  pur."  "  Tellement 
pur  que  c'est  du  Victoria,"  said  a  connoisseur ;  and  he  was 
not  mistaken,  for  it  had  been  manufactured  by  a  firm  of 
London  silversmiths.  But  it  was  a  compliment  for  all  that 
to  the  Queen. 

With  all  his  faults,  De  Persigny  was  at  heart  a  better 
man  than  De  Morny,  who  affected  to  look  down  upon  him. 
True,  the  latter  had  none  of  his  glaring  defects,  neither  had 
he  any  of  his  sterling  virtues.  One  evening,  in  January, 
1849,  when  the  Prince-President  had  been  less  than  a  month 
at  the  Elysee,  a  closed  carriage  drove  into  the  courtyard  and 
stopped  before  the  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  hall,  which, 
like  the  rest  of  the  building,  was  already  wrapt  in  semi- 
darkness.  A  gentleman  alighted  who  was  evidently  ex- 
pected, for  the  officer  on  duty  conducted  him  almost  without 
a  word  to  the  private  apartments  of  the  President,  where  the 
latter  was  walking  up  and  down,  the  usual  cigarette  between 
his  lips,  evidently  greatly  preoccupied  and  visibly  impatient. 
The  door  had  scarcely  opened  when  the  Prince's  face,  gener- 
ally so  difficult  to  read,  lighted  up  as  if  by  magic.  Before 
the  officer  had  time  to  announce  the  visitor,  the  prince 
stepped  forward,  held  out  his  hand,  and  with  the  other 
clasped  the  new-comer  to  his  breast.  The  officer  knew  the 
visitor.  It  was  the  Comte  Auguste  de  Morny.  As  a  matter 
of  course  he  retired,  and  saw  and  heard  no  more.  I  had  the 
above  account  from  his  own  lips,  and  he  felt  certain  that  this 
was  the  first  time  the  brothers  had  ever  met. 

The  Comte  <le  Morny  was  close  upon  forty  then,  and  for 
at  least  half  of  that  time  had  been  emancipated  from  all 
restraint ;  he  was  a  well-known  figure  in  the  society  of  Louis- 
Philippe's  reign ;  he  had  been  a  deputy  for  one  of  the  con- 
stituencies in  Auvergne ;  at  the  period  of  his  first  meeting 
with  Louis-Napoleon  he  was  at  the  head  of  an  important  in- 
dustrial establishment  down  that  way,  and  one  fain  asks  one's 
self  why  he  had  waited  until  then  to  shake  his  brother's 
hand.  The  answer,  is  not  difficult.  There  is  an  oft-repeated 
story  about  De  Morny  having  been  at  the  Opera-Comique 


274  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

during  the  evening  of  the  1st  of  December,  1851.  Eumours 
of  the  Coup  d'Etat  were  rife,  and  a  lady  said,  "  II  parait  qu'on 
va  donner  un  fameux  coup  de  balai.  De  quel  c6te  serez 
vous,  M.  de  Morny?"  "  Soyez  sure,  madame,  que  je  serai  du 
cote  du  manche."  Morny  always  averred  that  he  had  said 
nothing  of  the  kind.  "  They  invented  it  afterwards,  perhaps 
because  they  credited  me  with  the  instinctive  faculty  of  being 
on  the  winning  side,  the  side  of  the  handle,  in  any  and  every 
emergency." 

I  think  one  may  safely  accept  that  version,  and  that  is 
why  he  refrained  from  claiming  his  brother's  friendship  and 
acquaintance  until  he  felt  almost  certain  that  the  latter  was 
fingering  the  handle  of  the  broom  that  was  to  make  a  clean, 
sweep  of  the  Second  Eepublic.  It  is  difficult  to  determine 
how  much  or  how  little  he  contributed  to  the  success  of  that 
sweep,  but  I  have  an  idea  that  it  was  very  little.  One  thing 
is  very  certain,  for  I  have  it  on  very  good — I  may  say,  the 
best — authority.  He  did  not  contribute  any  money  to  the 
undertaking ;  he  endeavoured  to  raise  funds  from  others,  but 
he  himself  did  not  loosen  his  purse-strings ;  when,  curiously 
enough,  he  was  the  only  one  among  the  immediate  entou- 
rage of  Louis-Napoleon  whose  purse-strings  were  worth  loos- 
ening. 

Allowing  for  the  difference  of  sex,  better  breeding  and 
better  education,  De  Morny  often  reminded  one  of  Eachel. 
They  possessed  the  same  powers  of  fascination,  and  were,  I 
am  afraid,  equally  selfish  at  heart.  To  read  the  biographies 
of  both — I  do  not  mean  those  that  pretend  to  be  historical — 
one  would  think  that  there  had  never  been  a  grande  dame 
on  the  stage  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  before  Eachel  or  con- 
temporary with  her,  though  Augustine  Brohan  was  decidedly 
more  grande  dame  than  Eachel  in  every  respect.  It  is  the 
same  with  regard  to  De  Morny.  To  the  chroniqueur  during 
the  Second  Empire  he  was  the  only  grand  seigneur — the  rest 
were  only  seigneurs;  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the 
chroniqueur  of  those  days  had  seen  very  few  real  grand  sei- 
gneurs. To  use  a  popular  locution,  '*  they  did  not  go  thirteen 
to  the  dozen  "  at  the  court  of  Napoleon  III. ;  and  among  the 
people  with  whom  De  Morny  came  habitually  in  contact,  in 
the  course  of  his  financial  and  industrial  schemes,  a  grand 
seigneur  was  even  a  greater  rarity  than  at  the  Tuileries.  If 
a  kind  of  quiet  impertinence  to  some  of  one's  fellow-creatures, 
and  a  tacitly  expressed  contempt  for  nearly  the  whole  of  the 


DE   MORNY  "  THE   GRAND   SEIGNEUR.  275 

rest,  constitute  the  grand  seigneur,  then  certainly  De  Morny 
could  have  claimed  the  title.  I  have  elsewhere  noted  the 
meeting  of  Taglioni  with  her  husband  at  De  Morny's  dinner- 
party. If  it  had  been  arranged  by  the  host  with  the  view  of 
effecting  a  reconciliation  between  the  couple,  then  notliing 
could  have  been  more  i^raiseworthy ;  but  I  am  not  at  all  sure 
of  it.  If  it  Avere  not,  then  it  became  an  unpardonable  joke 
at  the  Avoman's  expense,  and  in  the  worst  taste ;  but  the 
chroniqueur  of  those  days  would  have  applauded  it  all  the 
same. 

Here  are  two  stories  which,  at  different  times,  were  told 
by  De  Morny's  familiars  and  sycophants  in  order  to  stamp 
liim  the  grand  seigneur.  Late  in  the  fifties  he  was  an  as- 
siduous frequenter  of  the  salons  of  a  banker,  whose  sisters- 
in-law  happened  to  bo  very  handsome.  One  evening,  while 
talking  to  o]ie  of  them,  they  came  to  ask  him  to  take  a  hand 
at  lansquenet.  He  had  evidently  no  intention  of  leaving  the 
society  of  the  lady  for  that  of  the  gaming-table,  and  said  so. 
Of  course,  his  host  was  in  the  wrong  in  pressing  the  thing, 
nevertheless  one  has  yet  to  learn  that  "  two  wrongs  make  one 
right." 

"  "What  will  you  play '? "  they  asked,  when  they  had  as 
good  as  badgered  him  away  from  his  companion. 

"  The  simple  rouge  and  the  noir.     That's  the  quickest." 

"  How  much  for  ?  " 

"  Ten  thousand  francs." 

The  stake  seemed  somewhat  high,  and  no  one  cared  to 
take  it  up.  But  the  host  himself  felt  bound  to  set  the  ex- 
ample, and  the  sum  was  made  up.  De  Morny  lost,  and  was 
about  to  rise  from  the  table,  when  they  said — 

"Have  your  revenge." 

"  Very  well ;  ten  thousand  on  the  black." 

He  lost  again.  ^lost  grand  seigneurs  would  have  got  up 
without  saying  anything.  Twenty  thousand  francs  was,  after 
all,  not  an  important  sum  to  him,  and  I  feel,  moreover,  cer- 
tain that  it  was  not  the  loss  of  the  money  that  vexed  him. 
But  he  felt  bound  to  emphasize  his  indifference. 

"  There,  that  will  do.  I  trust  I  shall  be  left  in  peace 
now\" 

My  informant  considered  this  exceedingly  talon  rouge ; 
I  did  not. 

A  story  of  a  similar  kind,  when  he  was  a  simple  deputy. 
A  bigwig,  with  an  inordinate  ambition  to  become  a  minister, 


276  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

invited  him  to  dinner.  He  had  been  told  that  his  host  was 
in  the  habit  of  drinking  a  rare  Bordeaux  which  was  only 
offered  to  one  or  two  guests,  quietly  pointed  out  by  the  for- 
mer to  the  servant.  At  the  question  of  the  latter  whether 
he  (M.  de  Morny)  would  take  Brane-Mouton  or  Ermitage, 
he  pointed  to  the  famous  bottle  that  had  been  hidden  away. 
The  servant,  as  badly  trained  as  the  master,  looked  embar- 
rassed, but  at  last  filled  De  Morny's  glass  with  the  precious 
nectar.  De  Morny  simply  poured  it  into  a  tumbler  and  di- 
luted it  with  water. 

Eidiculous  as  it  may  seem,  De  Morny  often  spoke  and 
acted  as  if  he  had  royal  blood  in  his  veins,  and  in  that  re- 
spect scarcely  considered  himself  inferior  to  Colonna  Walew- 
ski,  of  whose  origin  there  could  be  no  doubt,  A  glance  at 
the  man's  face  was  sufficient.  Both  frequently  spoke  and 
acted  as  if  Louis-Napoleon  occupied  the  Imperial  throne  by 
their  good  will,  and  that,  therefore,  he  was,  in  a  measure, 
bound  to  dance  to  their  fiddling.  Outwardly  these  two  were 
fast  friends,  up  to  a  certain  period ;  I  fancy  that  their  com- 
mon hatred  of  De  Persigny  was  the  strongest  link  of  that 
bond.  In  reality  they  were  as  jealous  of  one  another  and  of 
their  influence  over  the  Emperor  as  they  were  of  De  Per- 
signy and  his.  The  latter,  who  was  well  aware  of  all  this, 
frankly  averred  that  he  preferred  Walewski's  undisguised  and 
outspoken  hostility  to  De  Morny's  very  questionable  cordial- 
ity. "  The  one  would  take  my  head  like  Judith  took  Holo- 
fernes',  the  other  would  shave  it  like  Delilah  shaved  Sam- 
son's, provided  I  trusted  myself  to  either,  which  I  am  not 
likely  to  do." 

It  was  De  Persigny  who  told  me  the  substance  of  the  fol- 
lowing story,  and  I  believe  every  word  of  it,  because,  first,  I 
never  caught  De  Persigny  telling  a  deliberate  falsehood; 
secondly,  because  I  heard  it  confirmed  many  years  after- 
wards in  substance  by  two  persons  who  were  more  or  less  di- 
rectly concerned  in  it. 

In  the  latter  end  of  1863  one  of  the  sons  of  Baron  James 
de  Eothschild  died  ;  I  believe  it  was  the  youngest  of  the  four, 
but  I  am  not  certain.  The  old  baron,  who  was  generosity 
itself  when  it  came  to  endowing  charitable  institutions,  was 
absolutely  opposed  to  any  waste  of  money.  Amidst  the 
terrible  grief  at  his  loss,  he  was  still  the  careful  administra- 
tor, and  sent  to  M.  Emile  Perrin,  the  then  director  of  the 
Grand  Opera,  and  subsequently  the  director  of  the  Comedie- 


A  STORY  OP  THE  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN.  277 

Fran9aise,  asking  him  to  dispose  of  his  box  on  the  grand 
tier,  under  the  express  condition  that  it  should  revert  to  him 
after  a  twelvemonth.  It  was  the  very  thing  M.  Perrin  was 
not  empowered  to  do.  Though  nominally  the  director,  he 
was  virtually  the  manager  under  Comte  Bacciochi,  the  super- 
intendent of  the  Imperial  theatres;  that  is,  the  theatres 
which  received  a  subsidy  from  the  Emperor's  civil  list.  The 
subscriber  who  wished  to  relinquish  his  box  or  seat,  for  how- 
ever short  a  time — of  course  without  continuing  to  pay  for 
it — forfeited  all  subsequent  claim  to  it.  In  this  instance, 
though,  apart  from  the  position  of  Baron  James,  the  cause 
which  prompted  the  application  warranted  an  exception  be- 
ing made ;  still  M.  Perrin  did  not  wish  to  act  upon  his  own 
responsibility,  and  referred  the  matter  to  Comte  Bacciochi, 
telling  him  at  the  same  time  that  Comte  Walewski  would  be 
glad  to  take  the  box  during  the  interim.  The  latter  had  but 
recently  resigned  the  Ministry  of  State  by  reason  of  an  un- 
expected difficulty  in  the  "  Koman  Question  ;  "  *  the  ministe- 
rial box  went,  as  a  matter  of  course,  with  the  appointment, 
and  Comte  AValewski  regretted  the  loss  of  the  former,  which 
was  one  of  the  best  in  the  house,  more  than  the  loss  of  the 
latter,  and  had  asked  his  protege — M.  Perrin  owed  his  posi- 
tion at  the  Opera  to  him — to  get  him  as  good  a  one  as  soon 
as  possible. 

It  so  happened  that  Comte  Bacciochi  had  a  grudge 
against  Walewski  for  having  questioned  certain  of  his  pre- 
rogatives connected  with  the  superintendence  of  the  Opera. 
The  moment  he  heard  of  Walewski's  wish,  he  "eplied,  "  M. 
de  Morny  applied  to  me  several  months  since  for  a  better 
box,  and  I  see  no  reason  why  Comte  Walewski  should  have 
it  over  his  head." 

Vindictive  like  a  Corsican,  he  laid  the  matter  directly 
before  the  Emperor,  and  furthermore  did  his  best  to  exas- 
perate the  two  postulants  against  one  another.  De  Morny 
had  the  box  ;  Bacciochi  had,  however,  succeeded  so  well  that 
the  two  men  were  for  a  considerable  time  not  on  speaking 
terms. 

Meanwhile  the  Mexican  question  had  assumed  a  very 
serious  aspect.     In  spite  of  his  undoubted  interest  in  the 


*  If  Comte  Walewski  ruled  Napoleon  III.,  the  second  Comtesse  "Walewska, 
who  was  an  Italian  bybirth  and  very  handsome,  absolutely  ruled  her  husband. 
The  fir:st  Comtesse  Walewska  was  Lord  Sandwich's  daughter. — Editor. 


278  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Jecker  scheme,  or  probably  because  it  had  yielded  all  it  was 
likely  to  yield,  De  Morny  had  of  late  been  on  the  side  of 
Walewski,  who  strongly  counselled  the  withdrawal  of  the 
French  troops.  But  the  moment  the  incident  of  the  opera- 
box  cropped  up,  there  was  a  change  of  front  on  his  part. 
He  became  an  ardent  partisan  for  continuing  the  campaign, 
systematically  siding  against  "Walewski  in  everything,  and 
tacitly  avoiding  any  attempt  of  the  latter  to  draw  him  into 
conversation.  Walewski  felt  hurt,  and  gave  up  the  attempt 
in  despair.  A  little  before  this,  Don  Gutierrez  de  Estada 
had  landed  in  Europe  with  a  deputation  of  notable  Mexicans 
to  offer  the  crown  to  Maximilian.  The  latter  made  his  ac- 
ceptance conditional  on  the  despatch  of  twenty  thousand 
French  troops  and  the  promise  of  a  grant  of  three  hundred 
millions  of  francs. 

In  a  council  held  at  the  Tuileries  these  conditions  were 
unhesitatingly  declined.  "  That  was,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
on  a  Saturday,"  said  De  Persigny ;  "  and  it  was  taken  for 
granted  that  everything  was  settled.  On  Monday  morning 
the  council  was  hurriedly  summoned  to  the  Tuileries,  and 
having  to  come  from  a  good  distance,  "Walewski  arrived  when 
it  had  been  sitting  for  more  than  an  hour.  What  had  hap- 
pened meanwhile  ?  Simply  this.  Don  Gutierrez  had  been 
informed  of  the  decision  of  the  Emperor's  advisers,  and 
Maximilian  had  been  communicated  with  by  telegraph  to 
the  same  effect.  On  the  Sunday  morning  the  Archduke 
telegraphed  to  the  Mexican  envoy  that  unless  his  conditions 
were  subscribed  to  in  toto  he  should  decline  the  honour. 
Don  Gutierrez,  determined  not  to  return  without  a  king, 
rushed  there  and  then  to  De  Morny's  and  offered  him  the 
crown.  The  latter  immediately  accepted,  in  the  event  of 
Maximilian  persisting  in  his  refusal.  The  Emperor  was 
simply  frantic  with  rage,  but  nothing  would  move  De  Morny. 
The  only  one  who  really  had  any  influence  over  him  was '  the 
other  prince  of  the  blood,'  meaning  Walewski,  for,  according 
to  him,  the  real  and  legitimate  Bonapartes  counted  for  noth- 
ing. Walewski  was  telegraphed  for,  as  I  told  you,  early  in 
the  morning.  When  he  came  he  found  the  council  engaged 
in  discussing  the  means  of  raising  a  loan.  The  Empress 
begged  him  to  dissuade  De  Morny  from  his  purpose,  telling 
him  all  I  have  told  you.  Walewski  refused  to  be  the  first  to 
speak  to  De  Morny.  I  think  that  both  Walewski  and  De 
Morny  have  heaped  injury  and  insult  upon  me  more  than 


WALEWSKI.  279 

npon  any  man ;  I  would  have  obeyed  the  Empress  for  the 
Emperor's  sake,  but '  the  two  princes  of  the  blood '  only  con- 
sulted their  own  dignity.  I  need  not  tell  you  what  effect  the 
elevation  of  De  Morny  to  the  throne  of  Mexico  Avould  have 
produced  in  Europe,  let  alone  in  France.  Rather  than  risk 
such  a  thing,  the  money  was  found ;  Bazaine  was  sent,  and 
that  poor  fellow,  Maximilian,  went  to  his  death,  because  M. 
Bacciochi  had  sown  dissension  between  the  brother  and  the 
cousin  of  the  Emperor  about  an  opera-box.  Such  is  history, 
my  friend." 

I  repeat,  De  Persigny  was  a  better  man  at  heart  than 
De  Morny,  or  perhaps  than  Walewski,  though  the  latter  had 
only  fads,  and  never  stooped  to  the  questionable  practices  of 
his  fellow  "  prince  of  the  blood "  in  the  race  for  wealth. 
The  erstwhile  sergeant-quartermaster  refrained  from  doing 
so  out  of  sheer  contempt  for  money-hunters,  and  from  an  in- 
born feeling  of  honesty.  The  son  of  Napoleon  I.,  though 
illegitimate,  felt  Avhat  was  due  to  the  author  of  his  being,  and 
absolutely  refused  to  be  mixed  up  with  any  commercial  trans- 
actions. He  was  never  quietly  insolent  to  any  one,  like  the 
natural  son  of  Hortense  ;  he  rarely  said  either  a  foolish  or  a 
wise  thing,  but  frequently  did  ill-considered  ones,  as,  for  in- 
stance, when  he  wrote  a  play.  "  What  induced  you  to  do 
this,  monsieur  le  comte  ? "  said  Thiers,  on  the  first  night. 
"  It  is  so  difficult  to  write  a  play  in  five  acts,  and  it  is  so 
easy  not  to  write  a  play  in  five  acts."  Among  his  fads  was 
the  objection  to  ladies  in  the  stalls  of  a  theatre.  In  1861  he 
issued  an  order  forbidding  their  admission  to  that  part  of  the 
house,  and  could  only  be  persuaded  with  difficulty,  and  at  the 
eleventh  hour,  to  rescind  it.  In  many  respects  he  was  like 
Philip  II.  of  Spain ;  he  worried  about  trifles.  One  day  he 
prevailed  upon  M.  de  Boitelle,  the  Prefect  of  police,  a  thor- 
oughly sensible  man,  to  put  a  stop  to  the  flying  of  kites,  be- 
cause their  tails  might  get  entangled  in  the  telegraph  wires, 
and  cause  damage  to  the  latter.  I  happened  to  meet  him  on 
the  Boulevards  on  the  very  day  the  edict  was  promulgated. 
He  felt  evidently  very  proud  of  the  conception,  and  asked 
me  what  I  thought  of  it.  I  told  him  the  story  of  "  the  cow 
on  the  rails,"  according  to  Stephenson.  Napoleon,  when  he 
heard  of  Walewski's  reform,  sent  for  Boitelle.  "  Here  is  an 
'  order  in  council '  I  want  you  to  publish,"  he  said,  as  serious- 
ly as  possible.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  "  all  birds  found 
perching  on  the  wires  Avould  be  fined,  and,  in  default  of  pay- 


280  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

ment,  imprisoned."  Curiously  enough,  though  a  man  of 
parts,  and  naturally  intelligent,  satire  of  that  kind  was  lost 
upon  him,  for  not  very  long  after  he  prevailed  upon  M.  de 
Boitelle  to  revive  an  obsolete  order  with  regard  to  the  length 
of  the  hackney-drivers'  whips  and  the  cracking  thereof.  It 
was  M.  Oarlier,  the  predecessor  of  M.  de  Maupas,  who  had 
originally  attempted  a  similar  thing.  He  was  rewarded  with 
a  pictorial  skit  representing  him  on  the  point  of  drowning, 
while  cabby  was  trying  to  save  him  by  holding  out  his  whip, 
which  proved  too  short  for  the  purpose. 

Walewski  had  none  of  the  vivacity  of  most  of  the  Bona- 
partes.  I  knew  him  a  good  many  years  before,  and  after  the 
establishment  of  the  Second  Empire,  and  have  rarely  seen 
him  out  of  temper.  I  fancy  he  must  have  made  an  admirable 
ambassador  with  a  good  chief  at  his  back;  he,  himself,  I 
think,  had  little  spirit  of  initiative,  though,  like  a  good  many 
of  us,  he  was  fully  convinced  of  the  contrary.  He  was,  to 
use  the  correct  word,  frequently  dull ;  nevertheless,  it  was 
currently  asserted  and  believed  that  he  was  the  only  man 
Eachel  ever  sincerely  cared  for.  "  Je  comprends  cela,"  said 
George  Sand  one  day,  when  the  matter  was  discussed  in  her 
presence ;  "  son  commerce  doit  lui  reposer  Tesprit." 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  during  the  reign  which  suc- 
ceeded that  of  Louis-Philippe,  the  man  who  wielded  the 
greatest  power  next  to  the  Emperor  was,  in  almost  every  re- 
spect but  one,  the  mental  and  moral  counterpart  of  "  the 
citizen  king."  I  am  alluding  to  M.  Eugene  Eouher,  some- 
times called  the  vice-emperor.*  I  knew  Eugene  Eouher 
some  years  before  he  was  thought  of  as  a  deputy,  let  alone  as 
a  minister — when,  in  fact,  he  was  terminating  his  law  courses 
in  the  Quartier-Latin ;  but  not  even  the  most  inveterate  Pum- 
blechook  would  have  dared  to  advance  afterwards  that  he 
perceived  the  germs  of  his  future  eminence  in  him  then.  He 
was  a  good-looking  young  fellow,  in  no  way  distinguished 
from  the  rest.  He  was  a  not  unworthy  ornament  of  "  La 
Chaumiere,"  and  did  probably  as  much  or  as  little  poring 
over  books  as  his  companions.  Still,  there  could  be  no  doubt 
as  to  his  natural  intelligence,  but  the  dunces  in  my  immediate 
circle  were  very  few.     He  was  not  very  well  off ;  but,  as  I 

*  It  is  equally  curious  to  note,  perhaps,  that  M.  Grevv,  who  occupied  the 
presidential  chair  of  the  Third  Republic  for  a  longer  period  than  his  two  prede- 
cessors, was  in  many  respects  like  Louis-Philippe,  notahly  in  his  love  of  money. 
— Editor. 


EUaflNE  ROIJHER.  281 

have  said  elsewhere,  the  Croesuses  were  also  rare.  At  any  rate, 
Eugene  Rouher  had  entirely  passed  out  of  my  recollection, 
and  when,  eleven  or  twelve  years  later,  I  saw  his  name  in  the 
list  of  Odilon  Barrot's  administration  as  Minister  of  Justice,  I 
had  not  the  remotest  idea  that  it  was  the  Eugene  Rouher  of 
my  Quartier-Latin  days.  I  am  certain  that  a  great  many  of  our 
former  acquaintances  were  equally  ignorant,  because,  though 
I  met  several  of  them  from  time  to  time  on  the  "  fashionable 
side  "  of  the  Seine,  I  do  not  remember  a  single  one  having 
drawn  my  attention  to  him.  It  was  only  at  one  of  the  presi- 
dential receptions  at  the  Elysee,  in  1850,  that  I  became  aware 
of  the  fact.  He  came  up  to  me  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  II 
me  semble,  monsieur,  que  nous  nous  sommes  deja  rencontres 
au  Quartier-Latin,"  he  said.  Even  then  I  was  in  the  dark 
with  regard  to  the  position  he  was  fast  assuming ;  but  the 
Prince-President  himself  enlightened  me  to  a  great  extent  in 
the  course  of  the  evening.  "It  appears  that  you  and  Rouher 
are  old  acquaintances,"  he  said  in  English ;  and  on  my  nod- 
ding in  the  affirmative,  he  added,  "  If  you  were  a  Frenchman, 
and  inclined  to  go  in  for  politics,  or  even  an  Englishman  in 
need  of  patronage  or  influence,  I  would  advise  you  to  stick  to 
him,  for  he  is  a  very  remarkable  man,  and  I  fancy  we  shall 
hear  a  good  deal  of  him  within  the  next  few  years."  I  may, 
therefore,  say  without  exaggeration  that  I  was  one  of  the  first 
who  had  a  trustworthy  tip  with  regard  to  a  comparatively 
"  dark  political  horse,"  and  from  a  tipster  in  whom  by  that 
time  I  was  inclined  to  believe. 

Though  I  was  neither  "  a  Frenchman  inclined  to  go  in 
for  politics,"  nor  "  even  an  Englishman  in  need  of  patronage 
or  influence,"  my  curiosity  had  been  aroused  ;  for,  I  repeat, 
at  the  time  of  our  first  acquaintance  I  had  considered  Eugene 
Rouher  a  fairly  intelligent  young  fellow ;  but  his  intelligence 
had  not  struck  me  as  likely  to  make  a  mark,  at  any  rate  so 
soon,  seeing  that  he  was  considerably  below  forty  when  I  met 
him  at  the  Elysee.  It  is  idle  to  assert,  as  the  republicans 
have  done  since,  that  he  gained  his  position  by  abandoning 
the  political  professions  to  which  he  owed  his  start  in  public 
life.  Among  the  nine  hundred  deputies  of  the  Second  Re- 
public, there  were  at  least  a  hundred  intelligent  so-called  re- 
publicans ready  and  willing  to  do  the  same  with  the  prospect 
of  a  far  less  signal  reward  than  fell  eventually  to  Rouher's  lot. 

My  curiosity  was  doomed  to  remain  unsatisfied  until  two 
or  three  years  later,  when  Rouher  had  already  become  a  fix- 


282  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

ture  in  the  political  organization  of  the  Empire.  It  was  De 
Morny  himself  who  gave  me  the  particulars  of  Eouher's  be- 
ginnings, and  I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  painted 
them  and  the  man  in  deliberately  glowing  colours,  albeit  that 
in  one  important  crisis  they  acted  in  concert.  Clermont- 
Ferrand  was  only  about  twelve  miles  from  Riom,  Eouher's 
native  town.  I  have  already  remarked  that  De  Morny,  at  the 
time  he  met  with  his  brother  for  the  first  time,  was  at  the 
head  of  an  important  industrial  establishment.  It  was  at  the 
former  place;  De  Morny,  therefore,  was  in  a  position  to 
know. 

Eugene  Rouher,  it  appears,  like  a  good  many  men  who 
have  risen  to  political  eminence,  belonged  to  what,  for  want 
of  a  better  term,  I  may  call  the  rural  bourgeoisie — that  is, 
the  frugal,  thrifty,  hard-headed,  small  landowner,  tilling  his 
own  land,  honest  in  the  main,  ever  on  the  alert  to  increase 
his  own  property  by  a  timely  bargain,  with  an  intense  love  of 
the  soil,  with  a  kind  of  semi-Voltairean  contempt  for  the 
clergy,  an  ingrained  respect  largely  admixed  with  fear  for 
"  the  man  of  the  law,"  to  which  profession  he  often  brings 
up  his  son  in  order  to  have  what  he  likes  most — litigation — 
for  nothing.  Rouher's  grandfather  was  a  man  of  that  stamp ; 
he  made  an  attorney  of  his  son,  and  the  latter  established 
himself  in  the  Rue  Desaix,  in  a  small,  one-storied,  uninviting- 
looking  tenement,  where,  in  the  year  1814,  Eugene  Rouher 
was  born.*  Rouher's  father  was  not  very  prosperous,  yet  he 
managed  to  send  both  his  sons  to  Paris  to  study  law.  The 
elder  son,  much  older  than  the  future  minister,  had  succeeded 
in  getting  a  very  good  practice  at  the  Riom  bar,  but  he  died 


*  Before  that  it  bore  the  name  of  the  Eue  des  Trois-Hautbois,  and  in  the 
heyday  of  the  Second  Empire  it  was  changed  into  the  Eue  Eugene-Kouher. 
But  at  the  fall  of  Sedan  the  indignation  against  the  Emperor's  powerful  min- 
ister was  so  great  that  his  carriages  had  to  be  removed  from  Kiom  lest  they 
should  be  burned  by  the  mob,  and  the  street  resumed  its  old  appellation.  In 
November,  1887,  three  years  after  Rouher's  death,  I  happened  to  be  at  Clermont- 
Ferrand  waiting  for  General  Boulanger  to  go  to  Pans.  I  went  over  to  Eiom 
and  had  a  look  at  the  house.  It  was  occupied  by  a  carpenter  or  joiner,  to 
whose  father  it  had  been  sold  years  previously  bj'  the  express  wish  of  one  of 
Eugene  Rouher's  daughters.  I  got  into  conversation  with  an  intelligent  inhab- 
itant of  the  town,  who  told  me  that  on  the  4th  of  September,  1870,  the  feeling 
against  Rouher  was  much  stronger  than  against  Louis-Napoleon  himself,  yet 
that  teeling  was  an  implied  compliment  to  Rouher.  "  He  was  the  cleverer  of 
the  two,"  the  people  shouted  :  "  ne  ought  not  to  have  allowed  the  Emperor  to 
engage  in  this  war.  He  could  have  prevented  it  with  one  word."  Neverthe- 
less, in  a  little  while  it  abated,  and  Rouher  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Na- 
tional Aesembly. — Editor. 


HIS  COURTSHIP.  283 

a  short  time  before  Eugene  returned  from  Paris,  leaving  a 
widow  and  a  son,  who,  of  course,  was  too  young  to  take  his 
father's  place.  The  young  barrister,  therefore,  stepped  into 
a  capital  ready-made  practice,  and  being  exceedingly  amiable, 
bright,  hard-working,  and  essentially  honest,  soon  made  a 
host  of  friends. 

"I  have  frequently  found  myself  opposed  to  Eouher," 
said  De  Morny ;  "  but  his  unswerving  loyalty  to  the  Empire 
and  the  Emperor  is  beyond  question.  I  should  not  wonder 
but  what  he  died  poor.* 

"As  you  know,  Eugene  Eouher  was  really  very  hand- 
some. Mdlle.  Conchon — that  is  Madame  Eouher's  maiden 
name — thought  him  the  handsomest  man  in  the  world. 
True,  her  world  did  not  extend  beyond  a  few  miles  from 
Clermont-Ferrand ;  but  I  fancy  she  might  have  gone  further 
and  fared  worse.  You  know  old  Conchon,  and  the  pride  he 
takes  in  his  son-in-law.  "Well,  he  would  not  hear  of  the 
marriage  at  first.  Conchon  was  a  character  in  those  days. 
Though  he  had  but  a  poor  practice  at  the  Clermont  bar,  he 
was  clever ;  and  if  he  had  gone  to  Paris  as  a  journalist,  in- 
stead of  vegetating  down  there,  I  am  sure  he  would  have 
made  his  way.  He  was  very  fond  of  his  classics — of  Horace 
and  Tibullus  above  all — and  turned  out  some  pretty  Anacre- 
ontic verses  for  the  local  '  caveau ; '  for  Clermont,  like  every 
other  provincial  centre,  prided  itself  on  its  '  caveau.'  f 

"  A  time  came,  however,  when  Conchon's  fortunes  took  a 
turn  for  the  better.  You  can  form  no  idea  of  the  political 
ignorance  that  prevailed  in  the  provinces  even  as  late  as  the 
reign  of  Louis- Philippe.  Any  measure  advocated  or  pro- 
mulgated by  the  Government  was  sure  to  be  received  with 
suspicion  by  the  populations  as  affecting  their  liberties,  and, 
what  was  of  still  greater  consequence  to  them,  their  property. 
The  First  Eepublic  had  given  them  license  to  despoil  others ; 
any  subsequent  measure  of  the  monarchies  was  looked  upon 


*  De  Morny's  prophecy  turned  out  correct.  M.  Eugene  Eouher  died  a  poor 
man.  There  is  a  comic  story  connected  with  this  poverty.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  Republic,  and  during  the  presidency  of  Thiers,  Eouher's  house  was  con- 
stantly watched  by  detectives.  The  weather  was  abominably  bad ;  it  rained 
constantly.  Madame  Eouher  sent  them  some  cotton  umbrellas,  excusing  her- 
self for  not  sending  silk  ones,  because  she  could  not  afford  it. — Editor. 

+  The  diminutive  of  "  cave  "  (cellar).  Ecally  a  gathering  of  poets  and  song- 
writers, which  reached  its  highest  reputation  in'  Paris  during  the  early  part  of 
the  present  century.  Th«  Saturday  nights  at  the  Savage  Club  are  perhaps  the 
nearest  approach  to  it  in  London.— Editor. 


284  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

by  them  as  an  attempt  at  reprisal.  In  1842  a  general  census 
was  ordered.  You  may  remember  the  hostility  it  provoked 
in  Paris ;  it  was  nothing  to  its  effect  in  the  agricultural  and 
wine-growing  centres.  The  Republican  wire-pullers  spread 
the  report  that  the  census  meant  nothing  but  the  thin  end 
of  the  wedge  of  a  bill  for  the  duties  upon  wine  to  be  paid  by 
the  grower.  There  was  a  terrible  row  in  Clermont-Ferrand 
and  the  neighbourhood ;  the  '  Marseillaise '  had  to  make  way 
for  the  still  more  revolutionary  '  ^'a-ira.'  Conchon  was  maire 
of  Clermont-Feri-and,  and  he  who  was  as  innocent  of  all  this 
as  a  new-born  babe,  had  his  house  burned  over  his  head. 
The  Government  argued  that  if  the  mob  had  burned  the 
maire's  dwelling  in  preference  to  that  of  the  prefect,  it  was 
because  the  former  was  a  more  influential  personage  than 
the  latter ;  for  there  could  be  no  other  reason  for  their  giving 
him  the  '  Legion  of  Honour,'  and  appointing  him  to  a  puisne 
judgeship  on  the  bench  of  Eiom,  seeing  that  he  had  neither 
made  an  heroic  defence  of  his  property,  nor  endeavoured  to 
carry  out  the  provisions  of  the  census  bill  by  armed  force. 
In  fact,  the  latter  step  would  have  been  an  impossibility  on 
Conchon's  part.  You  and  I  know  well  enough  how  difficult 
it  is  to  make  Frenchmen  hold  their  tongues  by  means  of 
troops ;  to  endeavour  to  make  them  speak — in  distinction  to 
yelling — by  similar  means  is  altogether  out  of  the  question. 
You  cannot  take  every  head  of  a  family,  even  in  a  compara- 
tively small  town  like  Clermont-Ferrand,  and  put  him  be- 
tween two  gendarmes  to  make  him  tell  you  his  name,  his 
age,  and  those  of  his  family.  I  fancy,  moreover,  that  Con- 
chon was  not  at  Clermont  at  all  when  the  mob  made  a  bon- 
fire of  his  dwelling ;  it  was  on  a  Sunday,  and  he  had  prob- 
ably gone  into  the  country.  At  any  rate,  as  I  told  you,  they 
gave  him  the  cross  and  a  Judgeship.  It  never  rains  but  it 
pours.  Contrary  to  the  ordinary  principles  of  French  mobs 
of  hating  a  man  in  proportion  to  his  standing  well  with  the 
Government,  they  started  a  subscription  to  indemnify  Con- 
chon for  the  loss  of  his  house,  which  subscription  amounted 
to  a  hundred  thousand  francs. 

"  Conchon  had  become  a  somebody,  and  refused  to  give 
his  daughter  to  a  mere  provincial  barrister  now  that  he 
belonged  to  '  la  magistrature  assise.'  *      The  young  people 

*  The  term  for  the  French  bench,  consisting  of  judges ;  the  parquet^  i.  e. 
those  to  whom  the  public  prosecution  ib  confided,  are  csSled  "  la  magistrature 


ROUHER  AS  A  STATESMAN.  285 

■were,  however,  yery  fond  of  one  another,  and  had  their  wa}'. 
They  were  a  very  handsome  couple,  and  became  the  life  and 
soul  of  the  best  society  of  Clermont-Ferrand,  which,  exclu- 
sive as  it  was,  admitted  them  as  they  had  admitted  the 
widow  of  the  elder  brother.  The  younger  Madame  Eouher 
was  by  no  means  as  sprightly  or  as  clever  as  she  has  become 
since.  She  was  somewhat  of  a  spoilt  child,  but  her  husband 
was  a  very  brilliant  talker  indeed,  though,  unlike  many 
brilliant  talkers,  there  was  not  an  ounce  of  spite  in  his 
cleverest  remarks.  The  electors  might  have  done  worse 
than  send  him  to  Paris  the  first  time  he  invited  their  suf- 
frages in  '40,  under  the  auspices  of  Guizot.  Nevertheless, 
he  was  beaten  by  a  goodly  majority,  and  he  had  to  wait 
until  after  the  Revolution  of  February,  when  he  was  re- 
turned on  the  Republican  list." 

So  far  De  Morny.  Consulting  my  personal  recollections 
of  Eugene  Rouher,  whom  I  still  see  now  and  then,  I  find 
nothing  but  good  to  say  of  him.  I  am  not  prepared  to 
judge  him  as  a  politician,  that  kind  of  judgment  being 
utterly  at  variance  with  the  spirit  of  these  notes,  but  I 
know  of  no  French  statesman  whose  memory  will  be  en- 
titled to  greater  respect  than  Rouher's,  with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  Guizot's.  Both  men  committed  grave  faults,  but 
no  feeling  of  self-interest  actuated  them.  The  world  is  apt 
to  blame  great  ministers  for  clinging  to  power  after  they 
have  apparently  given  the  greatest  measure  of  their  genius. 
They  do  not  blame  Harvey  and  Jenner  for  having  continued 
to  study  and  to  practise  after  they  had  satisfactorily  demon- 
strated, the  one  the  theory  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 
the  other  the  possibility  of  inoculation  against  small-pox ; 
they  do  not  blame  Milton  for  having  continued  to  write  after 
he  had  given  "  Paradise  Lost,"  Rubens  for  having  con- 
tinued to  paint  after  he  had  given  "  The  Descent  from  the 
Cross,"  Michael- Angelo  for  not  having  abandoned  the  sculp- 
tor's chisel  after  he  had  finished  the  frescoes  of  the  Sistine 
Chapel.  The  bold  stroke  of  policy  that  made  England  a 
principal  shareholder  in  the  Suez  Canal,  the  Menai  Bridge, 
the  building  of  the  Great  Western  Railway,  were  achieve- 
ments of  great  men  who  had  apparently  given  all  there  was 

debout."  As  a  rule,  the  latter  liave  a  great  deal  more  talent  than  the  former. 
"  What  are  you  goinsr  to  do  with  your  son  I  "  asked  a  gentleman  of  his  friend. 
"  I  am  going  to  make  a  magistrate  of  him — '  debout,'  if  he  is  strong  enough  to 
keep  on  his  legs  ;  '  assis,'  it'^he  be  not." — Editor. 


286  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

in  them  to  give ;  why  should  Rouher  have  retired  when  he 
was  barely  fifty,  and  not  have  endeavoured  to  retrieve  the 
mistake  he  evidently  made  when  he  allowed  Bismarck  to 
humiliate  Austria  at  Sadowa,  and  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a 
unified  Germany  ?  Richelieu  made  mistakes  also,  but  he  re- 
trieved them  before  his  death. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  Rouher  was  both  in  public  and  private 
life  an  essentially  honourable  and  honest  man — as  honest  as 
Louis-Philippe  in  many  respects,  far  more  honest  in  others, 
and  absolutely  free  from  the  everlasting  preoccupation  about 
money  which  marred  that  monarch's  character.  He  was  as 
disinterested  as  Guizot,  and  would  have  scorned  the  tergiver- 
sations and  hypocrisy  of  Thiers.  He  never  betrayed  his 
master's  cause  ;  he  never  consciously  sacrificed  his  country  to 
his  pride.  The  only  blame  that  can  be  laid  to  his  charge  is 
that  he  allowed  his  better  sense  to  be  overruled  by  a  woman ; 
but  that  woman  was  the  wife  of  his  sovereign. 

He  was,  above  all,  a  staunch  friend  to  those  who  had 
known  him  in  his  early  days.  "  There  will  be  no  Auvergnats 
left  in  Clermont-Ferrand  and  Riom  if  this  goes  on,"  said  a 
witty  journalist,  seeing  Rouher  constantly  surrounded  by  the 
natives  of  that  particular  province,  to  the  exclusion  of  every 
one  else.  "  We'll  send  an  equal  quantity  of  Parisians  to  Au- 
vergne ;  it  will  do  them  good,  and  teach  them  to  work,"  re- 
plied Rouher,  when  he  heard  of  the  remark.  "  And  in 
another  generation  or  two  Paris  will  see  what  it  has  never 
seen  before,  namely,  frugal  Parisians,  doing  a  day's  labour 
for  a  day's  wage,  for  we'll  have  their  offspring  back  by  then." 
For  Rouher  could  be  very  witty  when  he  liked,  and  never 
feared  to  hit  out  straight.  He  was  a  delightful  talker,  and, 
next  to  Alexandre  Dumas,  the  best  raconteur  I  have  ever  met. 
It  was  because  he  had  a  marvellous  memory  and  a  distinct 
talent  for  mimicry.  Owing  to  this  latter  gift,  he  was  unlike 
any  other  parliamentary  orator  I  have  ever  heard.  He  would 
sit  perfectly  still  under  the  most  terrible  onslaught  of  his 
opponents,  whoever  they  were.  No  sign  of  impatience  or 
weariness,  not  an  attempt  to  take  a  note  ;  his  eyes  remained 
steadily  fixed  on  his  interlocutor,  his  arms  folded  across  his 
chest.  Then  he  would  rise  slowly  from  his  seat  and  walk  to 
the  tribune,  when  there  was  one,  take  up  the  argument  of 
his  adversary,  not  only  word  for  word,  but  with  the  latter's 
intonation  and  gestures,  almost  with  the  latter's  voice — which 
used  to  drive  Thiers  wild — and  answer  it  point  by  point. 


ROLTHER'S  GAME   OP  PIQUET.  287 

He  used  to  call  that  "  fair  debating ;  "  in  reality,  it  was 
the  masterly  trick  of  a  great  actor,  who  mercilessly  wielded 
his  power  of  ridicule  ;  but  we  must  remember  that  he  had 
originally  been  a  lawyer,  and  that  the  scent  of  the  French 
law-courts  hung  over  him  till  the  very  end.  "  I  am  not  always 
convinced  of  the  honesty  of  my  cause,  but  I  hold  a  brief  for 
the  Government,  and  I  feel  convinced  that  it  would  not  be 
honest  to  let  the  other  party  get  the  victory,"  he  said. 

He  was,  and  remained,  very  simple  in  his  habits.  He 
would  not  have  minded  entertaining  his  familiars  every  night 
of  the  week,  but  he  did  not  care  for  the  grand  receptions  he 
was  compelled  to  give.  He  was  very  fond  of  the  game  of 
piquet.  His  father-in-laAV,  who  had  been  promoted  to  a 
judgeship  in  one  of  the  Paris  courts,  had  been  a  foeman 
worthy  of  his  steel ;  "  but  I  am  afraid,"  laughed  Eouher, 
"  that  his  exaggerated  admiration  for  me  affects  his  play." 

Eouher  was  right ;  M.  Conchon  was  inordinately  proud 
of  his  son-in-law.  He  lived,  as  it  were,  in  the  Minister  of 
State's  reflected  glory.  His  great  delight  was  to  go  shopping, 
in  order  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  saying  to  the  tradesmen, 
"  You'll  have  this  sent  to  my  son-in-law,  M.  Eouher."  The 
stir  and  bustle  of  the  Paris  streets  confused  him  to  the  last, 
but  he  did  not  mind  it,  seeing  that  it  afforded  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  inquiring  his  way.  "  I  want  to  get  back  to  the 
Ministry  of  State — to  my  son-in-law,  M.  Eouher."  It  was 
not  snobbishness ;  it  was  sheer  unadulterated  admiration  of 
the  man  to  whom  he  had  somewhat  reluctantly  given  his 
daughter. 


288  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Society  during  the  Second  Empire — The  Court  at  Compiegne — The  English 
element — Their  opinion  of  JLouis-Napoleon — The  difference  between  the 
court  of  Louis-Philippe  and  that  of  Napoleon  III. — The  luggage  of  M. 
Villemain — The  hunts  in  Louis-Philippe's  time — Louis-Napoleon's  advent 
— ^Would  have  made  a  better  poet  than  an  Emperor — Looks  for  a  La  Val- 
liere  or  Montcspan,  and  finds  Mdlle.  Eu^nie  de  Montiio — The  latter  deter- 
mined not  to  be  a  La  Valliere  or  even  a  Pompadour — Has  her  great  destiny 
foretold  in  her  youth — Makes  up  her  mind  that  it  shall  be  realized  bv  a 
right-handed  and  not  a  left-handed  marriage — Queen  Victoria  stands  lier 
sponsor  among  the  sovereigns  of  Europe — Mdlle.  de  Montijo's  mother — The 
Comtesse  de  Montijo  and  Halevy's  "  Madame  Cardinal " — The  first  invita- 
tions to  Compiegne— Mdlle.  de  Montijo's  backers  for  the  Imperial  stakes — 
No  other  entries — Louis-Napoleon  utters  the  word  "marriage" — What  led 
up  to  it — The  Emperor  olbcially  announces  his  betrothal— The  effect  it 
produced — The  Faubourg  St.-Germain — Dupin  the  elder  gives  his  views — 
The  engaged  couple  feel  very  uncomfortable — Negotiations  to  organize  the 
Empress's  future  household — Rebuffs — Louis  Napoleon's  retorts — Mdlle.de 
Montijo's  attempt  at  wit  and  sprightliness — Her  iron  will — Her  beauty — 
Her  marriage — fehe  takes  Mane-Antoinette  for  her  model — She  fondly 
imagines  that  she  was  bom  to  rule — She  presumes  to  teach  Princess  Clo- 
tilde  the  etiquette  of  courts— The  story  of  two  detectives — The  hunts  at 
Compiegne — Some  of  the  mise  en  scene  and  dramatis  persons — The  shoot- 
ing-parties— Mrs.  Grundy  not  banished,  but  specially  invited  and  drugged 
— The  programme  of  the  gatherings — Compiegne  in  the  season — A  story 
of  an  Englishman  accommodated  for  the  night  in  one  of  the  Imperial  lug- 
gage-vans. 

I  WAS  a  frequent  visitor  to  Compiegne  throughout  the 

Second  Empire.     I  doubt  whether,  besides  Lord  H and 

myself,  there  was  a  single  English  guest  there  who  went  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  going.  Lords  Palmerston,  Cowley,  and 
Clarendon,  and  a  good  many  others  whom  I  could  name,  had 
either  political  or  private  ends  to  serve.  They  all  looked 
upon  Napoleon  III.  as  an  adventurer,  but  an  adventurer 
whom  they  might  use  for  their  own  purpose.  I  am  afraid 
that  the  same  charge  might  be  preferred  against  persons  in 
even  a  more  exalted  station.  Prince  Albert  averred  that 
Napoleon  III.  had  sold  his  soul  to  the  devil ;  Lord  Cowley, 
on  being  asked  by  a  lady  whether  the  Emperor  talked  much, 
replied,  "  No,  but  he  always  lies."  Another  diplomatist  opined 
"  that  Napoleon  lied  so  well,  that  one  could  not  even  believe 
the  contrary  of  what  he  said." 


COMPlfiGNE  DURING  THE  SECOND  EMPIRE.       289 

Enough.  I  went  to  the  Compiegne  of  Napoleon  III.,  just 
as  I  had  gone  to  the  Compiegne  of  the  latter  years  of  Louis- 
Philippe — simply  to  enjoy  myself ;  with  this  difference,  how- 
ever,— that  I  enjoyed  myself  much  better  at  the  former  than 
at  the  latter.  Louis-Philippe's  hospitality  was  very  genuine, 
homely,  and  unpretending,  but  it  lacked  excitement — espe- 
cially for  a  young  man  of  my  age.  The  entertainments  were 
more  in  harmony  with  the  tastes  of  the  Guizots,  Cousins,  and 
Villemains,  who  went  down  en  redingote,  and  took  little  else ; 
especially  the  eminent  professor  and  minister  of  public  edu- 
cation, whose  luggage  consisted  of  a  brown  paper  parcel,  con- 
taining a  razor,  a  clean  collar,  and  the  cordon  of  the  Legion 
of  Honour.  There  were  some  excellent  hunts,  organized  by 
the  Grand  Yeneur,  the  Comte  de  Girardin,  and  the  Chief 
Ranger,  the  Baron  de  Larminat ;  but  the  evenings,  notwith- 
standing the  new  theatre  built  by  Louis-Philippe,  were  fright- 
fully dull,  and  barely  compensated  for  by  the  reviews  at  the 
camp  of  Compiegne,  to  which  the  King  conducted  his  Queen 
and  the  princesses  in  a  tapissiere  and  four,  he  himself  driv- 
ing, the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Montpensier  occupying  the 
box  seat,  the  rest  of  the  family  ensconced  in  the  carriage, 
"  absolument  en  bons  bourgeois."  With  the  advent  of  Louis- 
Napoleon,  even  before  he  assumed  the  imperial  purple,  a  spirit 
of  change  came  over  the  place  Hortense's  second  son  would 
probably  have  made  a  better  poet  than  an  emperor.  His  whole 
life  has  been  a  miscarried  poem,  miscarried  by  the  inexorable 
demands  of  European  politics.  He  dreamt  of  being  L'Em- 
pereur-Soleil,  as  Louis  XIV.  had  been  Le  Roi-Soleil.  Visions 
of  a  nineteenth-century  La  Valliere  or  Montespan,  hanging 
fondly  on  his  arm,  and  dispelling  the  harassing  cares  of  State 
by  sweet  smiles  while  treading  the  cool  umbrageous  glades  of 
the  magnificent  park,  haunted  his  brain.  He  would  have 
gone  as  far  as  Louis  le  Bien-Aime,  and  built  another  nest  for 
another  Pompadour.  He  did  not  mean  to  make  a  Maintenon 
out  of  a  Veuve  Scarron,  and,  least  of  all,  an  empress  out  of  a 
Mademoiselle  Eugenie  de  Monti  jo.  Mdlle.  de  Monti  jo,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  determined  not  to  be  a  Mdme.  de  Main- 
tenon,  let  alone  a  La  Valliere  or  a  Pompadour.  At  any  rate, 
so  she  said,  and  the  man  most  interested  in  putting  her  asser- 
tion to  the  test  was  too  infatuated  to  do  so.  "  Quand  on  ne 
s'attend  a  rien,  la  moindre  des  choses  surprend."  The  proverb 
holds  good,  more  especially  where  a  woman's  resistance  is  con- 
cerned.    Mdlle.  de  Montijo  was  a  Spaniard,  or  at  least  half  a 

13 


290  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

one,  and  that  half  contained  as  much  superstition  as  would 
have  fitted  oat  a  score  of  her  countrywomen  of  unmixed  blood.- 
One  day  in  Granada,  while  she  was  sitting  at  her  window,  a 
gipsy,  whose  hand  "  she  had  crossed  with  silver,"  is  said  to 
have  foretold  her  that  she  should  be  queen.  The  young  girl 
probably  attached  but  little  importance  to  the  words  at  that 
time ;  "  but,"  said  my  informant,  "  from  the  moment  Louis- 
Napoleon  breathed  the  first  protestations  of  love  to  her,  the 
prophecy  recurred  to  her  in  all  its  vividness,  and  she  made 
up  her  mind  that  the  right  hand  and  not  the  left  of  Louis- 
Napoleon  should  set  the  seal  upon  its  fulfilment."  My  in- 
formant was  an  Englishman,  very  highly  placed,  and  dis- 
tinctly au  courant  of  the  private  history  of  the  Marquise  de 
Montijo  y  Teba,  as  well  as  that  of  her  mother.  Without  the 
least  fear  of  being  contradicted,  I  may  say  that  the  subsequent 
visit  of  Queen  Victoria  and  Prince  Albert  was  due  to  his  di- 
rect influence.  I  will  not  go  as  far  as  to  assert  that  Louis- 
Napoleon's  participation  in  the  Crimean  war  could  not  have 
been  had  at  that  moment  at  any  other  price,  or  that  England 
could  not  have  dispensed  with  that  co-operation,  but  he,  my 
informant,  considered  then  that  the  alliance  would  be  more 
closely  cemented  by  that  visit.  Nor  am  I  called  upon  to  an- 
ticipate the  final  verdict  of  the  social  historian  with  regard 
to  "  that  act  of  courtesy  "  on  the  part  of  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land, not  the  least  justified  boast  of  whose  reign  it  is  that  she 
purified  the  morals  of  her  court  by  her  own  example.  Still, 
one  may  safely  assume,  in  this  instance,  that  the  virtue  of 
Mdlle.  de  Montijo  would  have  been  proof  against  the  "  bland- 
ishments of  the  future  Emperor,"  even  if  she  had  not  had 
the  advice  and  countenance  of  her  mother,  whose  Scotch 
blood  would  not  have  stood  trifling  with  her  daughter's  affec- 
tions and  reputation.  But  to  make  the  fortress  of  that  heart 
doubly  impregnable,  the  Comtesse  de  Montijo  scarcely  ever 
left  her  second  daughter's  side.  It  was  a  great  sacrifice  on 
her  part,  because  Mdlle.  Eugenie  de  Montijo  was  not  her 
favourite  child ;  that  position  was  occupied  by  her  elder,  the 
Duchesse  d'Albe.  "  Mais,  on  est  m^re,  ou  on  ne  I'est  pas?" 
says  Madame  Cardinal.* 

Mdlle.  de  Montijo,  then,  became  the  guiding  spirit  of  the 


*  The  author  alludes  to  the  Madame  Cardinal  of  Ludovic  Hal6vy,  who  se- 
questrates her  daughter  because  the  baron,  her  would-be  protector,  is  hanging 
back  with  the  settlements. — Editor. 


LOUIS-NAPOLEON'S  COURTSHIP.  291' 

fetes  at  the  Elysee.  She  and  her  mother  had  travelled  a  great 
deal,  so  had  Louis-Napoleon ;  the  latter  not  enough,  appar- 
ently, to  have  learnt  the  wisdom  of  the  French  proverb, 
"  Gare  a  la  femme  dont  le  berceau  a  ete  une  malle,  et  le  pen- 
sionnat  une  table  d'hote." 

I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  the  Coup  d'Etat  and  of  the 
company  at  the  Elysee,  immediately  previous  to  it  and  after- 
wards ;  early  in  1852 — 

"  The  little  done  did  vanish  to  the  mind, 
Which  forward  saw  how  much  remained  to  do." 

The  Prince-President  undertook  a  journey  to  the  southern 
parts  of  France,  which  he  was  pleased  to  call  "  an  interroga- 
tion to  the  country."  It  was  that  to  a  certain  extent,  only 
the  country  had  been  crammed  with  one  reply  to  it,  "  Vive 
I'empereur."  Calmly  reviewing  things  from  a  distance  of  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  it  was  the  best  reply  the  nation  could 
have  made.  "  Society  has  been  too  long  like  a  pyramid 
turned  upside  down.  I  replaced  it  on  its  base,"  said  Louis- 
Napoleon,  on  the  29th  of  March,  1852,  when  he  opened  the 
first  session  of  the  Chambers,  and  inaugurated  the  new  con- 
stitution which  was  his  own  work.  "  He  is  right,"  remarked 
one  of  his  female  critics,  "  and  now  we  are  going  to  dance  on 
the  top  of  it.     A  quand  les  invitations  ?  " 

The  invitations  were  issued  almost  immediately  after  the 
journey  just  mentioned,  and  before  the  plebiscite  had  given 
the  Prince- President  the  Imperial  crown.  One  of  the  first 
was  for  a  series  of  fetes  at  Compiegne.  The  chateau  was 
got  ready  in  hot  haste ;  but,  of  course,  the  "  hunts "  were 
not  half  so  splendid  as  they  became  afterwards. 

The  most  observed  of  all  the  guests  was  Mdlle.  de  Mon- 
tijo,  accompanied  by  her  mother,  but  no  one  suspected  for  a 
single  moment  that  the  handsome  Spanish  girl  who  was  gal- 
loping by  Louis-Napoleon's  side  would  be  in  a  few  months 
Empress  of  the  French.  Only  a  few  knowing  ones  offered 
to  back  her  for  the  Imperial  Stakes  at  any  odds ;  I  took  them, 
and,  of  course,  lost  heavily.  This  is  not  a  figure  of  speech, 
but  a  literal  fact.  There  were,  however,  no  quotations  "  for 
a  place,"  backers  and  bookies  alike  being  agreed  that  she 
would  be  first  or  nowhere  in  the  race. 

How  it  would  have  fared  with  the  favourite  had  there 
been  any  other  entries,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say,  but  there 
were  none;   the  various  European  sovereigns  declined  the 


292  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

honour  of  an  alliance  with  the  house  of  Bonaparte,  so  Mdlle. 
Eugenie  de  Montijo  simply  walked  over  the  course.  One 
evening  the  rumour  spread  that  Louis-Napoleon  had  uttered 
the  magic  word  "  marriage,"  in  consequence  of  a  violent  fit 
of  coughing  which  had  choked  the  word  "  mistress  "  down 
his  throat.  Not  to  mince  matters,  the  affair  happened  in 
this  way,  and  I  speak  on  excellent  authority.  The  day  be- 
fore, there  had  been  a  hunt,  and  between  the  return  from 
the  forest  and  the  dinner-hour,  Napoleon  had  presented  him- 
self unannounced  in  Mdlle.  de  Montijo's  apartment.  Neither 
1  nor  the  others  who  were  at  the  chateau  at  the  time  could  sat- 
isfactorily account  for  the  prologue  to  this  visit,  but  that  there 
was  such  a  prologue,  and  that  it  was  conceived  and  enacted 
by  at  least  two  out  of  the  three  actors  in  the  best  spirit  of 
the  "  comedie  d'intrigue,"  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  Scribe,  ad- 
mits of  no  doubt ;  because,  though  the  first  dinner-bell  had 
already  rung,  Mdlle.  de  Montijo  was  still  in  her  riding-habit, 
consequently  on  the  alert.  Nay,  even  her  dainty  hunting-crop 
was  within  her  reach,  as  the  intruder  found  to  his  cost ;  and 
reports  were  rife  to  the  effect  that,  if  the  one  had  failed,  the 
mother,  who  was  in  the  next  room,  would  have  come  to  the 
rescue  of  her  injured  daughter. 

The  Comtesse  de  Montijo  was  spared  this  act  of  heroism ; 
Lucrece  herself  sufficed  for  the  task  of  defending  her  own 
honour :  nevertheless,  the  mother's  part  was  not  at  an  end, 
even  when  the  decisive  word  had  been  pronounced.  Accord- 
ing to  her  daughter,  she  objected  to  the  union,  from  a  sincere 
regard  for  her  would-be-son-in-law,  from  an  all-absorbing 
love  for  her  own  darling.  The  social  gulf  between  the  two 
was  too  wide  ever  to  be  bridged,  etc.  "  And  though  it  will 
break  my  heart  to  have  to  obey  her,  I  have  no  alternative," 
added  Mdlle.  de  Montijo,  if  not  in  these  selfsame  words,  at 
least  in  words  to  that  effect.  "  There  remains  but  one  hope. 
Write  to  her." 

And  Louis- Napoleon  did  write.  The  letter  has  been  re- 
ligiously preserved  by  the  Montijo  family.  In  less  than  three 
months  afterwards  France  was  officially  or  semi-officially  ap- 
prised of  the  Emperor's  intended  union ;  but,  of  course,  the 
news  had  spread  long  before  then,  and  a  very  varied  effect  it 
produced.  Candidly  speaking,  it  satisfied  no  one,  and  every 
one  delivered  judgment  in  two  separate,  if  not  different,  ca- 
pacities— as  private  citizens  and  as  patriotic  Frenchmen.  The 
lower  classes,  containing  the  ultra-democratic  element,  would 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT  OF  HIS  MARRIAGE.         £93 

have  perhaps  applauded  the  bold  departure  from  the  old  tra- 
ditions that  had  hitherto  presided  at  sovereign  unions,  if  the 
bride  had  been  French,  instead  of  being  a  foreigner.  They 
were  sensible  enough  not  to  expect  their  new  Emperor  to 
choose  from  the  bourgeoisie  ;  but,  in  spite  of  their  prejudices 
against  the  old  noblesse,  they  would,  in  default  of  a  princess 
of  royal  blood,  have  liked  to  see  one  of  that  noblesse's  daugh- 
ters sliare  the  Imperial  throne.  They  were  not  deceived  by 
Napoleon's  specious  argument  that  France  had  better  assume 
openly  the  position  of  a  parvenu  rather  than  make  the  new 
principle  of  the  unrestricted  suffrage  of  a  great  nation  pass 
for  an  old  one  by  trying  to  introduce  herself  at  any  cost  into 
a  family  of  kings. 

The  bourgeoisie  itself  was  more  disgusted  still.  Incred- 
ible as  it  may  seem,  they  did  resent  Napoleon's  slight  of  their 
daughters.  "  A  defaut  d'une  princesse  de  sang  royal,  une  de 
nos  filles  eut  fait  aussi  bicn  qu'uue  etrangere,  dout  le  grand 
pere,  apres  tout,  etait  negociant  comme  nous.  Lo  premier 
empire  a  ete  fait  avec  le  sang  de  gar9ons  d'ecurie,  de  tonnel- 
liers ;  le  second  empire  aurait  pu  prendre  un  pen  de  ce  sang 
sans  se  mesallier."  The  bourgeois  Voltairien  was  more  biting 
in  his  sarcasm.  In  his  speech  to  the  grand  officers  of  State 
and  corporations,  Napoleon  had  alluded  to  Empress  Jospehine : 
"  France  has  not  forgotten  that  for  the  last  seventy  years 
foreign  princesses  have  only  ascended  the  steps  of  the  throne 
to  see  their  race  scattered  and  proscribed,  either  by  war  or 
revolution.  One  woman  alone  appears  to  have  brought  the 
people  better  luck,  and  to  have  left  a  more  lasting  impression 
on  their  memory,  and  that  woman,  the  modest  and  kindly 
wife  of  General  Bonaparte,  was  not  descended  from  royal 
blood."  Then,  speaking  of  the  empress  that  was  to  be,  he 
concluded,  "  A  good  and  pious  Catholic,  she  will,  like  myself, 
offer  up  the  same  prayers  for  the  welfare  and  happiness  of 
France ;  I  cherish  the  firm  hope  that,  gracious  and  kind  as 
she  is,  she  will,  while  occupying  a  similar  position,  revive 
once  more  the  virtues  of  Josephine."  All  of  which  refer- 
ences to  the  undoubtedly  skittish  widow  of  General  de  Beau- 
harnais  made  the  satirically  inclined  bourgeois,  who  knew 
the  chronique  scandaleuse  of  the  Directoire  quite  as  well  as 
Louis-Napoleon,  sneer.  Said  one,  "  It  is  a  strange  present 
to  put  into  a  girl's  trousseau,  the  virtues  of  Josephine ;  the 
Nessus-shirt  given. to  Hercules  was  nothing  to  it." 

The  Faubourg  St.-Germain  made  common  cause  for  once 


294  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

with  the  Orleanists  salons,  which  were  avenging  the  confisca- 
tion of  the  princes'  property;  and  both,  if  less  brutal  than 
the  speaker  just  quoted,  were  not  less  cruel.  The  daughter 
had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  mother's  reputation.  Public 
securities  went  down  two  francs  at  the  announcement  of  the 
marriage.  There  was  but  one  man  who  stood  steadfast  by 
the  Emperor  and  his  bride,  Dupin  the  elder  ;  but  his  ironical 
defence  of  the  choice  was  nearly  as  bad  as  his  opposition  to 
it  could  have  been.  "  People  care  very  little  as  to  what  I  say 
and  think,  and  perhaps  they  are  right,"  he  remarked  ;  "  but 
still,  the  Emperor  acts  more  sensibly  by  marrying  the  woman 
he  likes  than  by  eating  humble-pie  and  bargaining  for  some 
strait-laced,  stuck-up  German  princess,  with  feet  as  large 
as  mine.  At  any  rate,  when  he  kisses  his  wife,  it  will  be  be- 
cause he  feels  inclined,  and  not  because  he  feels  compelled."  * 

Nevertheless,  amidst  all  this  flouting  and  jeering,  the 
Emperor  and  his  future  consort  felt  very  uncomfortable,  but 
they  showed  a  brave  front.  He  inferred,  rather  than  said  to 
one  and  all  who  advanced  objections,  that  his  love  for  Mdlle. 
de  Montijo  was  not  the  sole  motive  for  his  contemplated 
union.  He  wished  to  induce  them  into  the  belief  that  po- 
litical motives  were  not  foreign  to  it — that  he  was,  as  it 
were,  flinging  the  gauntlet  to  monarchical  Europe,  which,  not 
content  with  refusing  him  a  wife,  was  determined  to  throw  a 
spoke  in  his  matrimonial  wheel. 

Unfortunately,  he  and  his  bride  felt  that  they  could  not 
altogether  dispense  with  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of 
courts.  Like  his  uncle,  Napoleon  III.  was  exceedingly  fond 
of  grand  ceremonial  display,  and  he  set  his  heart  upon  his 
Empress  having  a  brilliant  escort  of  fair  and  illustrious 
women  on  the  day  of  her  nuptials.  To  seek  for  such  an 
escort  among  the  grandes  dames  of  the  old  noblesse  would, 
he  knew,  be  so  much  waste  of  time  ;  but  he  was  justified  in 
the  hope  that  the  descendants  of  those  who  owed  some  of 
their  titles  and  most  of  their  fortunes  to  his  uncle  would 
prove  more  amenable.  In  this  he  was  mistaken :  both  the 
Duchesse  de  Vicence  and  the  Duchesse  des  Lesparres,  besides 
several  others  to  whom  the  highest  positions  in  the  Empress's 

*  Dupin's  feet  were  enormous,  and,  furthermore,  invariably  shod  in  thick, 
hobnailed  bluchers.  He  himself  was  always  jestingly  alluding:  to  them ;  and 
one  day,  on  the  occasion  of  a  funeral  of  a  feend,  which  he  could  not  possibly 
attend,  he  suggested  sending  his  boots  instead.  "  People  send  their  empty  con- 
veyance :  I'll  send  mine,"  he  said. — Editor. 


SOME  EPIGRAMS  OP  LOUIS  NAPOLEON.  295 

household  were  offered,  declined  the  honour.  The  Due  de 
Bassano  did  worse.  Much  as  the  De  Caulaincourts  and  the  De 
Lesparres  owed  to  the  son  of  the  Corsican  lawyer,  the  Marets 
owed  him  infinitely  more.  Yet  their  descendant,  but  a  few 
days  before  the  marriage,  went  about  repeating  everywhere 
that  he  absolutely  objected  to  see  his  wife  figure  in  the  suite 
of  the  daughter  of  the  Comtesse  de  Montijo,  "  who "  (the 
daughter)  "  was  a  little  too  much  of  a  posthumous  child." 
He  not  only  relented  with  regard  to  the  duchesse  at  the 
eleventh  hour,  but  accepted  the  office  of  Grand  Chambellan, 
which  office  he  filled  to  the  end  of  his  life. 

In  fact,  honours  and  titles  went  absolutely  a-begging  in 
those  days.  Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  There  were 
plenty  of  men  and  women  ready  to  accept  both,  and  to  deck 
out  their  besmirched,  though  very  authentic,  scutcheons 
with  them ;  but  of  these  the  Empress,  at  any  rate,  would 
have  none.  She  would  have  willingly  thrown  overboard  the 
whole  of  her  family  with  its  doubtful  antecedents,  which 
naturally  identified  it  with  that  brilliant  and  cosmopolitan 
society,  "  dans  laquelle  en  fait  d'hommes,  il  n'y  a  que  des 
declasses,  et  en  fait  de  femmes  que  des  trop-bien  classees." 
The  Bonapartes  themselves  had,  after  all,  a  by  no  means 
cleaner  bill  of  health,  but,  as  usual,  the  woman  was  made  the 
scapegoat ;  for  though  a  good  many  men  of  ancient  lineage, 
such  as  the  Prince  Charles  de  Beauveau,  the  Due  de  Crillon, 
the  Due  de  Beauveau-Craon,  the  Due  de  Montmorency,  the 
Marquis  de  Larochejaquelein,  the  Marquis  de  Gallifet,  the 
Due  de  Mouchy,  etc.,  rallied  to  the  new  regime,  most  of  them 
refused  at  first  to  bring  their  wives  and  daughters  to  the 
Tuileries,  albeit  that  they  went  themselves.  When  a  man 
neglects  to  introduce  his  womenkind  to  the  mistress  of  the 
house  at  which  he  visits,  one  generally  knows  the  opinion  he 
and  the  world  entertain — rightly  or  wrongly — of  the  status 
of  the  lady ;  and  the  rule  is  supposed  to  hold  good  every- 
where throughout  civilized  society.  Yet  the  Emperor  tol- 
erated this. 

Knowing  what  I  do  of  Napoleon's  private  character,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that,  but  for  dynastic  and  political  reasons,  he 
would  have  willingly  dispensed  with  the  rigidly  virtuous 
woman  at  the  Tuileries,  then  and  afterwards.  But  at  that 
moment  he  was  perforce  obliged  to  make  advances  to  her,  and 
the  rebuffs  received  in  consequence  were  taken  with  a  sang- 
froid which  made  those  who  administered  them  wince  more 


296  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

than  once.  At  each  renewed  refusal  he  was  ready  with  an 
epigram :  "  Encore  une  dame  qui  n'est  pas  assez  sure  de  son 
passe  pour  braver  I'opinion  publique ; "  "  Celle-la,  c'est  la 
femme  de  Cesar,  hors  de  tout  soup9on,  comme  il  y  a  des 

criminels  qui  sont  hors  la  loi ; "  "  Madame  de ;  il  n'y  a 

pas  de  faux  pas  dans  sa  vie,  il  n'y  a  qu'un  faux  papa,  le  p^re 
de  ses  enfants." 

For  Louis-Napoleon  could  be  exceedingly  witty  when  he 
liked,  and  his  wit  lost  nothing  by  the  manner  in  which  he 
delivered  his  witticisms.  Not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved — 
he  merely  blinked  his  eyes. 

"  Si  on  avait  voulu  me  donner  une  princesse  allemande," 
he  said  to  his  most  intimate  friends,  "  je  I'aurais  epousee  :  si 
je  ne  I'avais  pas  autant  aimee  que  j'aime  Mademoiselle  de 
Montijo,  j'aurais  au  moins  etc  plus  sur  de  sa  betise;  avecune 
Espagnole  on  n'est  jamais  sur." 

Whether  he  meant  the  remark  for  his  future  consort  or 
not,  I  am  unable  to  say,  but  Mademoiselle  de  Montijo  was 
not  witty.  There  was  a  kittenish  attempt  at  wit  now  and 
then,  as  when  she  said,  "  Ici,  il  n'y  a  que  moi  de  legitimiste ; " 
but  intellectually  she  was  in  no  way  distinguished  from  the 
majority  of  her  countrywomen.*  On  the  other  hand,  she 
had  an  iron  will,  and  was  very  handsome.  A  woman's  beauty 
is  rarely  capable  of  being  analyzed ;  he  who  undertakes  such 
a  task  is  surely  doomed  to  the  disappointment  of  the  boy  who 
cut  the  drum  to  find  out  where  the  noise  came  from. 

I  cannot  say  wherein  Mdlle,  de  Montijo's  beauty  lay,  but 
she  was  beautiful  indeed. 

Her  iron  will  ably  seconded  the  Emperor's  attempts  at 
gaining  aristocratic  recruits  round  his  standard,  and  when 
the  Due  de  Guiche  joined  their  ranks — the  Due  de  Guiche 
whom  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  had  left  close  upon  forty 
thousand  pounds  a  year — Mdlle.  de  Montijo  might  well  be 
elated  with  her  success.  Still,  at  the  celebration  of  her  nup- 
tials, the  gathering  was  not  le  dessus  du  panier.  The  old 
noblesse  had  the  right  to  stay  away ;  they  had  not  the  right 
to  do  what  they  did.  I  am  perfectly  certain  of  my  facts,  else 
I  should  not  have  committed  them  to  paper. 


*  Mdrim^e,  the  author  of  "  Carmen,"  who  knew  something  of  Spanish 
women,  and  of  the  female  members  of  the  Montijo  family  in  particular,  said 
that  God  had  given  them  the  choice  between  love  and  wit,  and  that  they  had 
chosen  the  former. — Editob. 


THE  EMPRESS  AND  PRINCESS  CLOTILDE.         297 

As  usual,  on  the  day  of  the  ceremony,  portraits  of  the  new 
Empress  and  her  biography  were  hawked  about.  There  was 
nothing  offensive  in  either,  because  the  risk  of  printing  any- 
thing objectionable  would  have  been  too  great.  In  reality, 
the  account  of  her  life  was  rather  too  laudatory.  But  there 
was  one  picture,  better  executed  than  the  rest,  which  bore  the 
words,  '•'•The  portrait  and  the  virtues  of  the  Empress;  the 
whole  for  two  sous  ;  "  and  that  was  decidedly  the  work  of  the 
Legitimists  and  Orleanists  combined.  I  have  ample  proof  of 
what  I  say.  I  heard  afterwards  that  the  lithograph  had  been 
executed  in  England. 

Eor  several  months  after  the  marriage  nothing  was  spoken 
or  thought  of  at  the  Tuileries  but  rules  of  precedence,  court 
dresses,  the  revival  of  certain  ceremonies,  functions  and  en- 
tertainments that  used  to  be  the  fashion  under  the  ancien 
regime.  The  Empress  was  especially  anxious  to  model  her 
surroundings,  her  code  of  life,  upon  those  of  Marie- Antoi- 
nette,— "  mon  type,"  as  she  familiarly  called  the  daughter  of 
Marie-Therese.  If,  in  fact,  after  a  little  while,  some  one  had 
been  ill-advised  enough  to  tell  her  that  she  had  not  been  born 
in  the  Imperial  purple,  she  would  have  scarcely  believed  it. 
When  a  daughter  of  the  House  of  Savoy  had  the  misfortune 
to  marry  Napoleon's  cousin,  the  Empress  thought  fit  to  give 
the  young  princess  some  hints  as  to  her  toilette  and  sundry 
other  things.  "  You  appear  to  forget,  madame,"  was  the  an- 
swer, "  that  I  was  born  at  a  court."  Empress  Eugenie  was 
furious,  and  never  forgave  Princess  Clotilde.  Her  anger  re- 
minds me  of  that  of  a  French  detective  who,  having  been 
charged  with  a  very  important  case,  took  up  his  quarters 
with  a  colleague  in  one  of  the  best  Paris  hotels,  exclusively 
frequented  by  foreigners  of  distinction.  He  assumed  the 
r61e  of  a  retired  ambassador,  his  comrade  enacted  the  part  of 
his  valet,  and  both  enacted  them  to  perfection.  For  a  fort- 
night or  more  they  did  not  make  a  single  mistake  in  their 
parts.  The  ambassador  was  kind  but  distant  to  his  servant, 
the  latter  never  omitted  to  address  him  as  "Your  Excel- 
lency." When  their  mission  was  at  an  end,  they  returned  to 
their  ordinary  duties ;  but  the  "  ambassador  "  had  become  so 
identified  with  his  part  that,  on  his  colleague  addressing  him 
in  the  usual  way,  he  turned  round  indignantly,  and  exclaimed, 
"  You  seem  to  forget  yourself.  What  do  you  mean  by  such 
familiarity  ?  " 

Of  all  the  entertainments  of  the  ancien  regime  lending 


298  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

themselves  to  sumptuary  and  scenic  display,  "  la  chasse  "  was 
undoubtedly  the  one  most  likely  to  appeal  to  the  Imperial 
couple.  Louis- Napoleon  had,  at  any  rate,  the  good  sense  not 
to  attempt  to  rival  Le  Roi-Soleil  in  spectacular  ballet,  or  to 
revive  the  Eglinton  tournament  on  the  Place  du  Carrousel. 
But— 

"  II  ne  fallait  au  fier  Romain 

Que  des  spectacles  et  du  pain ; 

Mais  aux  Fran9ais,  plus  que  Romain, 

Le  spectacle  sufflt  sans  pain," 

No  one  was  better  aware  of  this  tendency  of  the  Parisian 
to  be  dazzled  by  court  pageants  than  the  new  Emperor,  but 
he  was  also  aware  that,  except  at  the  risk  of  making  himself 
and  his  new  court  ridiculous,  some  sort  of  raison  d'etre  would 
have  to  be  found  for  such  open-air  displays  in  the  capital ; 
pending  the  invention  of  a  plausible  pretext,  "les  grandes 
chasses  "  at  Compiegne  were  decided  upon.  They  were  to  be 
different  from  what  they  had  been  on  the  occasion  referred 
to  above  :  special  costumes  were  to  be  worn,  splendid  horses 
purchased ;  the  most  experienced  kennel  and  huntsmen,  im- 
bued with  all  the  grand  traditions  of  "  la  Venerie,"  recruited 
from  the  former  establishments  of  the  Condes  and  Kohans ; 
— in  short,  such  eclat  was  to  be  given  to  them  as  to  make 
them  not  only  the  talk  of  the  Avhole  of  France,  but  of  Europe 
besides.  The  experiment  was  worth  trying.  Compiegne  was 
less  than  a  hundred  miles  from  Paris ;  thousands  would  flock, 
not  only  from  the  neighbouring  towns,  but  from  the  capital 
also,  and  the  glowing  accounts  they  would  be  sure  to  bring 
back  would  produce  their  effect.  There  would  be,  moreover, 
less  risk  of  incurring  the  remarks  of  an  irreverent  Paris  mob, 
a  mob  which  instinctively  finds  out  the  ridiculous  side  of 
every  ceremonial  instituted  by  the  court,  except  those  calcu- 
lated to  gratify  its  love  of  military  pomp  and  splendour.  As 
yet,  it  was  too  early  to  belie  the  words,  "  L'empire,  c'est  la 
paix ; "  we  had  not  got  beyond  the  "  tame  eagle "  period, 
albeit  that  those  behind  the  scenes,  among  others  a  near  con- 
nection of  mine,  who  was  more  than  half  a  Frenchman  him- 
self, predicted  that  the  predatory  instincts  would  soon  reveal 
themselves,  against  the  Russian  bear,  probably,  and  in  con- 
junction with  the  British  lion, — if  not  in  conjunction  with 
the  latter,  perhaps  against  him. 

At  any  rate,  les  grandes  chasses  et  f^tes  de  Compiegne 
formed  the  first  item  of  that  programme  of  "  La  France  qui 


FJfeTES  AT  CAMPlflGNE.  299 

s'amuse," — a  programme  and  play  which,  for  nearly  eighteen 
years,  drew  from  all  parts  of  the  civilized  world  would-be 
critics  and  spectators,  few  of  whom  perceived  that  the  theatre 
was  undermined,  the  piece  running  to  a  fatal  denoument,  and 
the  bill  itself  the  most  fraudulent  concoction  that  had  ever 
issued  from  the  sanctum  of  a  bogus  impressario.  But  had 
not  Lamartine,  only  a  few  years  previously,  suggested,  as  it 
were,  the  tendency  of  the  piece,  when,  in  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  he  said,  "  Messieurs,  j'ai  I'honneur  et  le  regret  de 
vous  avertir  que  la  France  s'ennuie  "  ?  Louis-Napoleon  was 
determined  that  no  such  reproach  should  be  made  during  his 
reign.  He  probably  did  not  mean  his  fireworks  to  end  in  the 
conflagration  of  Bazeilles,  and  to  read  the  criticism  on  his  own 
drama  at  Wilhelmshohe,  but  he  should  have  held  a  tighter 
hand  over  his  stage-managers.  Some  of  these  were  now  get- 
ting their  reward  for  having  contributed  to  the  efficient  rep- 
resentation of  the  prologue,  which  one  might  entitle  "  the 
Coup  d'Etat."  General  Magnan  was  appointed  grand  veneur 
— let  us  say,  master  of  the  buckhounds, — with  a  stipend  of  a 
hundred  thousand  francs ;  Comte  Edgar  Ney,  his  chief  coad- 
jutor, with  forty  thousand  francs.  History  sees  the  last  of 
the  latter  gentleman  on  a  cold,  dull,  drizzly  September  morn- 
ing, of  the  year  1870.  He  is  seated  in  an  open  char-a-bancs, 
by  the  side  of  some  Prussian  officers,  and  the  vehicle,  in  the 
rear  of  that  of  his  Imperial  master,  is  on  its  way  to  the  Bel- 
gian frontier,  en  route  for  Cassel.  He  is  pointing  to  some 
artillery  which,  notwithstanding  its  French  model,  is  being 
driven  by  German  gunners.  "  A  qui  ces  canons-la  ?  "  "  Us 
ne  sont  pas  des  notres,  monsieur,"  is  the  courteous  and  guard- 
ed reply.  Verily,  his  father's  exit,  after  all  is  said  and  done, 
was  a  more  dignified  one.  Michel  Ney,  at  any  rate,  fell 
pierced  by  bullets ;  the  pity  was  that  they  were  not  the  ene- 
my's. In  addition  to  the  grand  veneur  and  premier  veneur, 
there  were  three  lieutenants  de  venerie,  a  capitaine  des  chasses 
a  tir, — whom  we  will  call  a  sublimated  head-gamekeeper ; — 
and  all  these  dignitaries  had  other  emoluments  and  charges 
besides,  because  Louis-lSTapoleon,  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  never 
forgot  a  friend. 

The  whole  of  the  "  working  personnel "  was,  as  I  have 
already  said,  recruited  from  the  former  establishments  of  the 
Condes  at  Chantilly,  of  the  late  Due  d'Orleans,  the  Dues  de 
Nemours  and  d'Aumale  ;  and  such  men  as  La  Feuille,  whose 
real  name  vras  Fergus,  and  La  Trace  could  not  have  failed  to 


300  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

make  comparisons  between  their  old  masters  and  the  new, 
not  always  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter.  For  though  the 
spectacle  was  magnificent  enough,  there  was  little  or  no  hunt- 
ing, as  far  as  the  majority  of  the  guests  were  concerned. 
After  a  great  deal  of  deliberation,  dark  green  cloth,  with  crim- 
son velvet  collars,  cuffs,  and  facings,  and  gold  lace,  had  been 
adopted.  In  Louis  XV.'s  time,  and  in  that  of  the  latter  Bour- 
bons, the  colour  had  been  blue  with  silver  lace  ;  but  for  this 
difference  the  costume  was  virtually  the  same,  even  to  the 
buckskins,  jackboots,  and  the  "lampion,"  also  edged  with 
gold  instead  of  silver.*  The  Emperor's  and  Empress's  had 
a  trimming  of  white  ostrich-feathers.  The  dress  could  not 
be  worn,  however,  by  any  but  the  members  of  the  Imperial 
household,  without  special  permission.  The  latter,  of  course, 
wore  it  by  right ;  but  even  men  like  the  Due  de  Vicence,  the 
Baron  d'Offremont,  the  Marquis  de  Gallifet,  the  Marquis  de 
Cadore,  women  like  the  Comtesse  de  Pourtales,  the  Comtesse 
de  Brigode,  the  Marquise  de  Contades,  who  held  no  special 
charge  at  court,  had  to  receive  "  le  bouton  "  before  they  could 
don  itf 

The  locale  of  these  gatherings  differed  according  to  the 
seasons.  Fontainebleau  was  chosen  for  the  spring  ones,  but 
throughout  the  reign  Compiegne  always  offered  the  most 
brilliant  spectacle,  especially  after  the  Crimean  war,  when 
Napoleon  III.  was  tacitly  admitted  to  the  family  circle  of  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe.  The  shooting-parties  were  a  trib- 
ute offered  to  the  taste  of  the  English  visitors,  who,  after 
that  period,  became  more  numerous  every  succeeding  autumn, 
and  who,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  their  own  magnificent 
meets  and  lavish  hospitality  at  the  most  renowned  country 
seats,  could  not  help  expressing  their  surprise  at  the  utterly- 
reckless  expenditure ;  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  enjoyed 
the  freedom  from  all  restraint,  though  it  was  cunningly  hid- 
den beneath  an  apparently  very  formidable  code  of  courtly 
etiquette.  As  one  of  these  distinguished  Englishmen  said, 
"  They  have  done  better  than  banish  Mrs.  Grundy ;  they  have 
given  her  a  special  invitation,  and  drugged  her  the  moment 
she  came  in." 

*  The  lampion  was  the  three-cornered  hat,  cocked  on  all  sides  alike  in  the 
shape  of  a  spout,  and  stiflPened  with  wire. — Editor. 

+  "  Wearing  the  king's  button  "  ia  a  very  old  French  sporting  term,  signify- 
ing permission  to  wear  the  dress  or  the  buttons  or  both,  similar  to  those  of  tne 
monarch  when  following  the  hounds. — Editor. 


COMPlfiGNE  IN  THE  SEASON.  301 

The  Court  invariably  arrived  on  the  first  of  November, 
and  generally  stayed  for  three  Aveeks  or  a  month,  according 
to  the  date  fixed  for  the  opening  of  the  Chambers.  From 
that  moment  the  town,  a  very  sleepy  though  exceedingly 
pretty  one,  became  like  a  fair.  Unless  you  had  engaged  your 
room  beforehand  at  one  of  the  hotels,  the  chances  were  a 
thousand  to  one  in  favour  of  your  having  to  roam  the  streets ; 
for  there  Avere  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  sight-seers,  French 
as  well  as  foreign,  desirous  of  following  the  hounds,  which 
every  one  was  free  to  do.  In  addition  to  these,  many  func- 
tionaries, not  sufficiently  important  to  be  favoured  with  an 
invitation  to  the  Chateau,  but  eager  for  an  opportunity  of 
attracting  the  notice  of  the  sovereign — for  Napoleon  was  a 
very  impulsive  monarch,  who  often  took  sudden  fancies — 
had  to  be  accommodated,  not  to  mention  flying  columns  of 
the  demi-monde,  "  pas  trop  bien  assurees  sur  la  fidelite  de 
leurs  protecteurs  en-titre  et  voulant  les  sauvegarder  centre  les 
attaques  de  leurs  rivales  dans  I'entourage  imperial."  AVhat 
with  these  and  others,  a  room,  on  the  top  story,  was  often 
quoted  at  sixty  or  seventy  francs  per  day.  I  know  a  worthy 
lieutenant  of  the  cavalry  of  the  Garde  who  made  a  pretty 
sum,  for  two  years  running,  by  engaging  three  apartments  at 
each  of  the  five  good  hotels,  for  the  whole  of  the  Emperor's 
stay.  His  regiment  was  quartered  at  Compiegne,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  his  friends  from  Paris  applied  to  him. 

An  amusing  incident  happened  in  connection  with  this 
scarcity  of  accommodation.  The  French  railways  in  those 
days  got  a  great  many  of  their  rails  from  England.  The 
representative  of  one  of  these  English  makers  found  out, 
however,  that  the  profits  on  his  contracts  were  pretty  well  be- 
ing swallowed  up  by  the  baksheesh  he  had  to  distribute 
among  the  various  government  officials  and  others.  In  his 
perplexity,  he  sought  advice  of  an  English  nobleman,  who 
had  his  grandes  et  petites  entre  esto  the  Tuileries,  and  the 
latter  promised  to  get  him  an  audience  of  the  Emperor.  It 
so  happened  that  the  Court  was  on  the  eve  of  its  departure, 
but  Napoleon  wrote  that  he  would  see  the  agent  at  Com- 
piegne. On  the  day  appointed,  the  Englishman  came.  Hav- 
ing made  up  his  mind  to  combine  pleasure  with  business,  he 
had  brought  his  portmanteau  in  order  to  stay  for  a  day  or  so. 
Previous  to  the  interview  he  had  applied  at  every  hotel,  at 
every  private  house  where  there  was  a  chance  of  getting  a 
room,  but  without  success.     His  luggage  was  in  a  cab  on  the 


302  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Place  du  Chdteau.  Napoleon  was,  as  usual,  very  kind,  prom- 
ised him  his  aid,  but  asked  him  to  let  the  matter  rest  until 
the  next  day,  when  he  would  have  an  opportunity  of  consult- 
ing a  high  authority  on  the  subject  who  was  coming  down 
that  very  afternoon.  "  Give  me  your  address,  and  I  will  let 
you  know,  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  when  I  can  see 
you,"  said  the  Emperor  in  English. 

The  Englishman  looked  very  embarrassed.  "  I  have  no 
address,  sire.  I  have  been  unable  to  get  a  room  anywhere," 
he  replied. 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  we  can  put  you  up  somewhere  here," 
laughed  the  Emperor,  and  called  to  one  of  his  aides-de-camp, 
to  whom  he  gave  instructions. 

The  Englishman  and  the  officer  departed  together,  but 
the  Chateau  was  quite  as  full  as  the  rest  of  the  town. 

"  I'll  ask  Baptiste,"  said  the  officer  at  last,  having  tried 
every  possible  means. 

Baptiste  was  one  of  the  Emperor's  principal  grooms,  and 
very  willing  to  help ;  but,  alas !  he  had  only  a  very  small  room 
himself,  and  that  was  shared  by  his  wife. 

"  If  monsieur  don't  mind,"  said  Baptiste,  "  I  will  make 
him  up  a  good  bed  in  one  of  the  fourgons  " — one  of  the  lug- 
gage-vans. 

So  said,  so  done.  The  Englishman  slept  like  a  top,  being 
very  tired, — too  much  like  a  top,  for  he  never  stirred  until 
he  found  himself  rudely  awakened  by  a  heavy  bundle  of  rugs 
and  other  paraphernalia  being  flung  on  his  chest.  He  was 
at  the  station.  Baptiste  had  simply  forgotten  to  mention 
the  fact  of  his  having  transformed  the  fourgon  into  a  bed- 
room ;  the  doors  that  stood  ajar  during  the  night  had  been 
closed  without  the  servant  looking  inside ;  and  when  the 
occupant  was  discovered  he  was,  as  Racine  says — 

"  Dans  le  simple  appareil 
D'une  beaute  qu'on  vient  d'arracher  au  sommeil." 

When  he  told  the  Emperor,  the  latter  laughed,  "  as  he  had 
never  seen  him  laugh  before,"  said  the  aide-de-camp,  who 
had  been  the  innocent  cause  of  the  mischief  by  appealing  to 
Baptiste. 

The  victim  of  the  misadventure  did  not  mind  it  much. 
For  many  years  afterwards,  he  averred  that  the  sight  of  Com- 
piegne  in  those  days  would  have  compensated  for  the  incon- 
venience of  sleeping  on  a  garden  seat.     What  was  more,  he 


A  NOVEL  BEDKOOM.  303 

and  his  firm  were  never  troubled  any  more  with  inexorable 
demands  for  baksheesh. 

He  was  right ;  the  sight  of  Compiegne  in  those  days  was 
very  beautiful.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  the  histrionic 
mixed  up  with  it,  but  it  was  very  beautiful.  In  addition  to 
the  bands  of  the  garrison,  a  regimental  band  of  the  infantry 
of  the  Garde  played  in  the  courtyard  of  the  Chateau ;  the 
streets  were  alive  with  crowds  dressed  in  their  best ;  almost 
every  house  was  gay  with  bunting,  the  only  exceptions  being 
those  of  the  Legitimists,  who,  unlike  Achilles,  did  not  even 
skulk  in  their  tents,  but  shut  up  their  establishments  and  flit- 
ted on  the  eve  of  the  arrival  of  the  Court,  after  having  de- 
spatched an  address  of  unswerving  loyalty  to  the  Comte  de 
Chambord.  After  a  little  while.  Napoleon  did  not  trouble 
about  these  expressions  of  hostility  to  his  dynasty,  though  he 
could  not  forbear  to  ask  bitterly,  now  and  then,  whether  the 
Comte  de  Chambord  or  the  Comte  de  Paris  under  a  regency 
could  have  made  the  country  more  prosperous  than  he  had 
attempted  to  do,  than  he  succeeded  in  doing.  And  truth 
compels  one  to  admit  that  France's  material  prosperity  was 
not  a  sham  in  those  days,  whatevei  else  may  have  been ;  for 
in  those  days,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  the  end  was  still 
distant,  and  there  were  probably  not  a  thousand  men  in  the 
whole  of  Europe  who  foresaw  the  nature  of  it,  albeit  that  a 
thirtieth  or  a  fortieth  part  of  them  may  have  been  in  Com- 
piegne at  the  very  time  when  the  Emperor,  in  his  elegantly 
appointed  break,  drove  from  the  Place  du  Chateau  amidst 
the  acclamations  of  the  serried  crowds  lining  the  roads. 

On  the  day  of  the  arrival  of  the  Emperor — the  train 
reached  Compiegne  about  four — there  was  neither  dinner- 
party nor  reception  at  the  Chateau.  The  civil  and  military 
authorities  of  Compiegne  went  to  the  station  to  welcome  the 
Imperial  couple,  the  rangers  of  Compiegne  and  Laigue  forests 
waited  upon  his  Majesty  to  arrange  the  programme,  and 
generally  joined  the  Imperial  party  at  dinner ;  but  the  fetes 
did  not  commence  until  the  second  day  after  the  arrival,  i.  e. 
with  the  advent  of  the  first  batch  of  guests,  who  reached  the 
Chateau  exactly  twenty-four  hours  after  their  hosts. 


304  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Society  during  the  Empire — The  series  of  guests  at  Compiegne — The  amuse- 
ments—the absence  of  musical  taste  in  the  Bonapartes — The  programme 
on  the  first,  second,  third,  and  fourtli  days — An  anecdote  of  Lafontaine,  the 
actor — Theatrical  performances  and  balls — The  expenses  of  the  same — The 
theatre  at  Compiegne — The  guests,  male  and  female — "Neck  or  nothing" 
for  the  latter,  uniform  for  the  former — The  rest  have  to  take  "  back  seats  " — 
The  selection  of  guests  among  the  notabilities  of  Compiegne — A  mayor's 
troubles — The  Empress's  and  the  Emperor's  conflicting  opinions  with  re- 
gard to  female  charms^Bassano  in  "  hot  water " — Tactics  of  the  dcmi- 
mondaines — Improvement  from  the  heraldic  point  of  view  in  the  Empress's 
entourage — The  cocodettes — Their  dress — Worth — When  every  pretext  for 
a  change  of  toilette  is  exhausted,  the  court  ladies  turn  themselves  into  bal- 
lerinas—"Le  Diable  a  Quatre"  at  Compiegne — The  ladies  appear  at  the 
ball  afterwards  in  their  gauze  skirts — The  Emperor's  dictum  witn  regard  to 
ballet-dancers  and  men's  infatuation  for  them — The  Emperor  did  not  like 
stupid  women — The  Emperor's  "  eye  "  for  a  handsome  woman — The  Em- 
press does  not  admire  the  instinct — William  I.  of  Prussia  acts  as  comforter 
• — The  hvmt — Actors,  "  supers,"  and  spectators — "  La  Comtesse  d'Escar- 
bagnas" — The  Imperial  procession — The  Empress's  and  Emperor's  un- 
punctuality — Louis-Napoleon  not  a  "well-dressed  man" — The  Empress 
wished  to  get  back  before  dark— The  reason  of  this  wish — Though  unpunct- 
ual,  punctual  on  hunt-days — The  police  measures  at  those  gatherings — M. 
Hyrvoix  and  M.  Boitelle — The  Empress  did  not  like  the  truth,  the  Em- 
peror did — Her  anxiety  to  go  to  St.  Lazare. 

The  guests  were  divided  into  five  series,  each  of  which 
stayed  four  days  exclusive  of  the  day  of  their  arrival  and  that 
of  their  departure.  Each  series  consisted  of  between  eighty 
and  ninety  guests. 

The  amusements  provided  were  invariably  the  same  for 
each  series  of  guests.  On  the  day  of  their  arrival  there  was 
the  dinner,  followed  by  charades,  and  a  carpet  dance  to  the 
accompaniment  of  the  piano — or,  to  speak  by  the  card,  of  the 
piano-organ.  It  was  an  instrument  similar  to  that  which 
nowadays  causes  so  much  delight  to  the  children  in  the 
streets  of  London,  and,  as  far  as  I  can  remember,  the  first  of 
its  kind  I  had  ever  seen.  The  male  guests,  and  not  always 
the  youngest,  relieved  one  another  in  turning  the  handle. 
Mechanical  as  was  the  task,  it  required  a  certain  ear  for  time, 
and  they  were  often  found  sadly  wanting  in  that  respect.     It 


THE  SERIES  OP  GUESTS  AT  C0MPI£GNE.         305 

■was  rather  comical  to  see  a  grave  minister  of  State  solemnly 
grinding  out  tunes,  and  being  called  to  task  every  now  and 
again  for  his  incapacity.  The  worst  offender,  the  most  hojje- 
less  performer,  was  undoubtedly  the  Emperor  himself.  The 
Bonapartes  are  one  and  all  devoid  of  the  slightest  taste  for 
music.  I  think  it  is  De  Bourrienne — but  I  will  not  be  cer- 
tain— who  speaks  of  the  founder  of  the  dynasty  humming  as 
he  went  along  from  one  apartment  to  another.  "  Et  Dieu 
salt  comme  il  chantait  faux,"  adds  the  chronicler  in  despair. 
That  part  of  the  great  man's  mantle  had  decidedly  fallen 
upon  his  nephew.  I  remember  the  latter  trying  to  distin- 
guish himself  on  that  piano-organ  one  evening.  M.  de  Mau- 
pas,  who  was  the  prefect  of  police  at  the  time  of  the  Coup 
d'Etat,  and  minister  of  police  afterwards,  was  among  the 
guests.  The  ambulant  musician  in  Paris  has  to  get  a  kind 
of  licence  from  the  prefecture  of  police,  the  outward  sign  of 
which  is  a  brass  badge,  which  he  is  bound  to  wear  suspended 
from  his  button-hole.  While  the  Emperor  was  trying  to 
make  the  company  waltz,  one  of  the  ladies  suddenly  turned 
round  to  M.  de  Maupas :  "  Si  jamais  I'empereur  vous  demande 
la  permission  de  jouer  dans  la  rue,  refusez  lui,  monsieur ;  re- 
fusez  lui,  pour  I'amour  du  ciel  et  de  la  musique,"  she  said 
aloud :  and  the  Emperor  himself  could  not  help  smiling  at 
the  well-deserved  rebuke.  "  Madame,"  he  replied,  "  if  ever  I 
am  reduced  to  such  a  strait,  I  will  take  you  into  partnership : 
I  will  make  you  sing,  and  I  will  collect  the  pence."  In  spite 
of  his  musical  deficiencies  the  Emperor  was  right ;  the  lady 
was  Madame  Conneau,  who  had  and  has  still  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  voices  ever  heard  on  the  professional  or  amateur 
stage. 

On  the  first  day  following  that  of  the  arrival  of  the  guests, 
there  was  a  shooting-party,  or,  rather,  there  were  two — one 
in  the  home  park  for  the  Emperor  himself,  who  was  not  a 
bad  shot,  and  a  dozen  of  the  more  important  personages ; 
another  in  the  forest.  Those  who  did  not  care  for  sport 
were  at  liberty  to  remain  with  the  ladies,  who,  under  the  di- 
rection of  the  Empress,  proceeded  to  the  laAvn.  Croquet,  as 
far  as  I  know,  had  not  been  invented  then,  but  archery  lent 
itself  to  posing  and  flirtation  quite  as  well,  and  the  costumes 
worn  on  such  occasions  were  truly  a  sight  for  the  gods. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  there  was  a  performance  in 
the  theatre,  built  for  the  express  purpose  by  Louis-Philippe, 
but  which  had  been  considerably  embellished  since.    The 


306  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

companies  of  the  Comedie-FraTi9aise,  the  Odeon,  the  Gym- 
nase,  the  Vaudeville,  and  the  Palais-Koyal  took  it  in  turns. 
Only  the  members  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  had  the  privi- 
lege of  paying  their  respects  in  the  Imperial  box.  It  was 
during  one  of  the  performances  of  the  Gymnase  company 
that  the  following  amusing  incident  occurred.  They  were 
playing  "  Le  Fils  de  Famille  "  of  Bayard  and  De  Bieville,* 
and  the  Emperor  was  strolling  in  the  lobbies  before  the  per- 
formance, when  he  noticed  an  old  colonel  of  lancers,  whom 
he  did  not  remember  to  have  seen  among  the  guests  during 
the  daytime,  but  who  seemed  perfectly  at  home.  He  had 
not  even  donned  his  full  regimentals. 

"  Voila  un  vrai,  beau  militaire,"  said  the  sovereign  to  one 
of  his  aides-de-camp ;  "  allez  demander  son  nom." 

The  aide-de-camp  returned  in  a  moment.     "  II  s'appelle 
Lafontaine,  sire ;  et  il  appartient  au  regiment  du  Gymnase." 
"  Comment,  au  regiment  du  Gymnase  ?  " 
"  Mais  oui,  sire ;  c'est  Lafontaine,  le  comedien." 
In  fact,  the  assumption  was  so  thoroughly  realistic,  that 
even  a  better  judge  than  Louis-Napoleon  might  have  been 
deceived  by  it. 

Those  performances  were  really  most  brilliant  affairs,  and 
an  invitation  to  them  was  only  less  highly  prized  than  that 
to  the  ball  which  always  followed  the  play  on  November  15  th, 
the  Empress's  fete-day.f  The  cost  of  each  performance  was 
estimated  at  between  twenty  and  thirty  thousand  francs,  ac- 
cording to  the  company  performing.  I  am  repeating  the 
official  statement,  though  inclined  to  think  it  somewhat  ex- 
aggerated. Except  the  Opera  or  Opera- Comique,  there  was 
not  then,  nor  is  there  now,  a  theatre  in  Paris  whose  nightly 
receipts,  with  "  the  greatest  success,"  exceed  seven  or  eight 
thousand  francs.  Allowing  for  an  additional  three  thousand 
francs  for  railway  travelling  and  sundry  expenses,  I  fail  to 
see  how  the  remainder  of  the  sum  was  disbursed,  unless  it 
was  in  douceurs  to  the  performers.  There  is  less  doubt, 
however,  about  the  expenses  of  the  Chdteau  during  this  an- 
nual series  of  f^tes.  It  could  not  have  been  less  than  forty- 
five  thousand  francs  per  diem,  and  must  have  often  risen  to 

*  Known  on  the  English  stage  as  the  "  Queen's  Shilling,"  by  Mr.  Godfrey. — 
Editor. 

+  The  Sainte-Eugdnie,  according  to  the  Church  Calendar.  In  France,  it  is 
not  the  birthday,  but  the  day  of  the  patron-saint  whose  name  one  bears,  which 
is  celebrated.— Editob. 


THE  THEATRE.  307 

fifty  thousand  francs,  exclusive  of  the  cost  of  the  theatrical 
performances,  because  the  luxe  displayed  on  these  occasions 
was  truly  astonishing — I  had  almost  said  appalling 

The  theatre  was  built  on  the  old-fa?hioned  principle,  and 
what  we  call  stalls  were  not  known  in  those  days.  There  was 
something  analogous  to  them  at  the  Opera  and  the  Theatre- 
Franc^ais,  but  they  were  exclusively  reserved  to  the  male  sex. 
Both  these  theatres  still  keep  up  the  same  traditions  in  that 
respect.  At  Comi^iegne  the  whole  of  the  ground  floor,  par- 
terre, or  pit,  as  we  have  misnamed  it — "  groundlings  "  is  a 
much  more  appropriate  word,  perhaps,  than  "  pittites  " — was 
occupied  by  the  officers  of  all  grades  of  the  regiments  quar- 
tered at  Compiegne  and  in  the  department.  The  chefs  de 
corps  and  the  chief  dignitaries  of  State  filled  the  amphithe- 
atre, which  rose  in  a  gentle  slope  from  the  back  of  the  par- 
terre to  just  below  the  first  tier  of  boxes,  or  rather  to  the 
balcony  tier,  seeing  that  the  only  box  on  it  was  the  Imperial 
one.  The  latter,  however,  took  up  much  more  than  the 
centre,  for  it  had  been  constructed  to  seat  about  two  hundred 
persons.  Only  a  slight  partition,  elbow  high,  divided  it  from 
the  rest  of  the  tier,  whence  the  sterner  sex  was  absolutely 
banished.  The  display  of  bare  arms  and  shoulders  was  some- 
thing marvellous,  for  they  were  by  no  means  equally  worthy 
of  admiration,  and  the  stranger,  ignorant  of  the  court  regu- 
lations, must  have  often  asked  himself  why  certain  ladies 
should  have  been  so  reckless  as  to  invite  comparison  with 
their  more  favoured  sisters.  It  was  because  there  was  no 
choice.  The  slightest  gauze  was  rigorously  prohibited,  and 
woe  to  the  lady  who  ventured  to  disobey  these  regulations. 
One  of  the  chambellans  was  sure  to  request  her  to  retire. 
"  L'epaule  ou  I'epaulette  "  was  the  title  of  a  comic  song  of 
those  days,  in  allusion  to  the  Empress's  determination  to  suf- 
fer none  but  resplendent  uniforms  and  ball  dresses  within 
sight  of  her.  If  I  remember  aright,  the  chorus  went  like 
this — 

"  Je  ne  porte  pas  I'epaulette, 
Je  ne  puis  me  deeoH'ter, 
Je  ne  suis  qu'un  vieux  bonhomme, 
Done,  je  ne  suis  pas  invite." 

'For  even  the  guests  in  plain  evening  dress  were  mercilessly 
relegated  to  the  tier  above  that  of  the  Imperial  box,  and, 
even  when  there,  were  not  permitted  to   occupy  the  first 


308  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

rows.      These  also  were  reserved  for  the  fairer  portion  of 
humanity. 

This  fairer  portion  of  humanity,  thus  ostensibly  privi- 
leged, embittered  the  lives  of  the  poor  mayor  and  sub-pre- 
fect of  Compiegne.  The  wives  of  the  local  notabilities  and 
of  the  government  officials,  in  addition  to  those  of  some  of 
the  landed  gentry  of  the  Empire,  were  not  only  anxious  to 
be  present  at  these  gatherings,  but  generally  insisted  on  hav- 
ing the  front  seats,  at  any  rate  in  the  second  circle.  Their 
applications,  transmitted  by  these  dignitaries  to  the  Due  de 
Bassano,  were  always  in  excess  of  the  room  at  his  disposal, 
and,  being  an  utter  stranger  to  all  these  ladies,  he  had  vir- 
tually to  choose  at  random,  or,  if  not  at  random,  to  be  guided 
by  the  mayor  and  sub-prefect,  who  were  consulted,  not  with 
regard  to  the  greater  or  lesser  degree  of  opulent  charms  and 
comeliness  of  features  of  these  fair  applicants,  but  with  re- 
gard to  their  social  status  and  fair  fame.  Now,  it  so  hap- 
pens that  in  France  "  L'amour  fait  des  siennes  "  in  the  prov- 
inces as  well  as  in  the  capital ;  he  only  disdains  what  Mira- 
beau  used  to  call  "  les  fees  concombres."  The  Empress,  pro- 
vided the  shoulders  and  arms  were  bare,  did  not  trouble 
much  about  either  their  colour  or  "  moulded  outline ; "  the 
Emperor,  on  the  contrary,  objected,  both  from  personal  as 
well  as  artistic  reasons,  to  have  the  curved  symmetry  of  the 
two  circles  marred  by  the  introduction  of  so  many  living 
problems  of  Euclid;  and  it  really  seemed  as  if  the  devil 
wanted  to  have  all  the  good  shapes  to  himself,  for  the  re- 
putedly virtuous  spinsters,  widows,  and  matrons  were  angular 
enough  to  have  satisfied  a  tutor  of  mathematics.  There  was 
a  dilemma :  if  they  were  put  in  the  front  rows,  the  Emperor 
scolded  Bassano,  who  in  his  turn  scolded  the  mayor  and  the 
sub-prefect.  If  the  less  virtuous  but  more  attractive  were 
put  in  the  front  rows,  there  was  frequently  a  small  scandal ; 
for  the  Empress,  at  the  first  sight  of  them,  had  them  ex- 
pelled, after  which  she  scolded  Bassano,  who  avenged  him 
self  for  his  having  been  reprimanded  on  the  mayor  and  sub- 
prefect.  Furthermore,  the  contingent  from  Paris,  some  of 
whom  were  often  provided  with  letters  of  introduction  from 
influential  personages  to  the  latter  gentleman,  were  not  al- 
ways without  reproach  though  ever  without  fear ;  but  how 
were  two  provincial  magistrates  to  know  this  ?  Those  sirens 
could  almost  impose  upon  them  with  impunity,  and  did  ;  so, 
upon  the  whole,  the  magistrates  did  not  have  a  pleasant  time 


"MARIVAUDAGE"  AND   WORSE.  300 

of  it,  for  in  the  case  of  the  former  damsels  or  veuves  de  Mala- 
bar both  the  Emperor  and  the  Empress  were  equally  strict — 
though,  perhaps,  from  utterly  different  motives. 

Nevertheless,  the  esclandres  were  comparatively  rare,  and 
the  house  itself  presented  a  sight  unparalleled  perhaps 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Europe.  At  nine 
o'clock,  Comte  Bacciochi,  the  first  chambellan,  in  his  court 
dress  descended  the  few  steps  leading  from  the  foyer  to  the 
Imperial  box,  and,  advancing  to  the  front,  announced,  "  The 
Emperor."  Every  one  rose  and  remained  standing  until  the 
Emperor  and  Empress,  who  entered  immediately  afterwards, 
had  seated  themselves  in  the  crimson  velvet  and  gilt  arm- 
chairs which  the  gentlemen-in-waiting  (les  chambellans  de 
service)  rolled  forward. 

I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  the  immediate  entourage  of 
the  Imperial  hosts,  and  may  therefore  pass  them  over  in 
silence  here.  As  the  Napoleonic  dynasty  became  apparently 
more  consolidated  both  at  home  and  abroad,  this  entourage 
gradually  changed — though  no  truthful  observer  could  have 
honestly  averred  that  the  change  was  for  the  better.  The 
decaves  and  the  declassees  of  the  first  period  disappeared  al- 
together, or  underwent  a  truly  marvellous  financial  and  social 
metamorphosis :  the  men,  by  means  of  speculations,  chiefly 
connected  with  the  "  Haussmannizing  "  of  Paris,  the  success- 
ful carrying  out  of  which  was  greatly  facilitated  by  their  posi- 
tion at  court;  the  women  by  marriages,  the  conditions  of 
which  I  prefer  not  to  discuss.  An  undoubtedly  genuine 
leaven  of  names  to  be  found  in  "  D'Hozier,"  *  came  to  swell 
the  ranks  of  the  hitherto  somewhat  shady  courtiers  of  both 
sexes.  Unfortunately,  their  blood  was  not  only  thicker  than 
water,  and  consequently  more  easily  heated,  but  they  pre- 
sumed upon  the  blueness  of  it  to  set  public  opinion  at  defi- 
ance. 

"  Ce  qui,  chez  les  mortels,  est  une  effronterie 
Entre  nous  autres  demi-dieux 
N'est  qu'honnete  galanterie." 

Thus  wrote  the  Duchesse  du  Maine  f  to  her  brother,  of  whom 
she  was  perhaps  a  little  more  fond  than  even  their  blood-rela- 


*  "  D'Hozier,"  the  French  "Burke,"  so  named  after  its  founder,  Pierre  D'Ho- 
zier, the  creator  of  the  science  of  French  genealogy. — EorroK. 

t  Anne,  Louise,  Benedicte  de  Bourbon,  Prineesse  de  Conde,  who  married  the 
Due  du  Maine,  the  illegitimate  son  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Madame  de  Montespan. 


310  AN  ENGLISHMAN    IN  PARIS. 

tionship  warranted.  This  privilege  of  stealing  the  horse, 
while  the  meaner-born  might  not  even  look  over  the  hedge, 
was  claimed  by  the  sons  and  the  daughters  of  the  old  noblesse, 
who  condescended  to  grace  the  court  of  Napoleon  III.,  with 
a  cynicism  worthy  of  the  most  libertine  traditions  of  the 
ancien  regime ;  and  neither  the  Empress  nor  the  Emperor 
did  anything  to  discountenance  the  claim.  The  former,  pro- 
vided that  "  tout  ce  passait  en  famille,"  closed  her  eyes  to 
many  things  she  ought  not  to  have  tolerated.  At  the  Tuile- 
ries,  a  certain  measure  of  decorum  was  preferred ;  at  Com- 
pi^gne  and  Fontainebleau,  where  the  house  was  "  packed " 
as  it  were,  the  most  flagrant  eccentricities,  to  call  them  by 
no  harsher  name,  were  not  only  permitted,  but  tacitly  en- 
couraged by  the  Empress.  This  was  especially  the  case 
when  the  first  series  of  guests  was  gone.  It  generally  in- 
cluded the  most  serious  portion  of  the  visitors,  "  les  ennuy- 
eurs,  les  empecheurs  de  danser  en  rond,"*  as  they  were 
called.  The  ladies  belonging  to,  or  classed  in  that  category, 
presented,  no  doubt,  a  striking  contrast  to  those  of  the  suc- 
ceeding series,  in  which  the  English  element  was  not  always 
conspicuous  by  its  absence.  The  costumes  of  the  latter  were 
something  wonderful  to  behold.  The  cloth  skirt,  which  had 
then  been  recently  introduced  from  England,  and  the  cloth 
dress,  draped  elegantly  over  it,  enabled  their  wearers  to  defy 
all  kinds  of  weather.  And  as  they  went  tramping  down  the 
muddy  roads,  their  coquettish  little  hats  daintily  poised  on 
enormous  chignons,  their  walking  boots  displaying  more  than 
the  regulation  part  of  ankle,  the  less  sophisticated  Compi^- 
gnois  stared  with  all  their  might  at  the  strange  company  from 
the  Chateau,  and  no  wonder.  Still,  the  surprise  of  the  in- 
habitants was  small  compared  to  that  of  the  troopers  of  the 
garrison  at  the  invasion  of  their  riding-school  by  such  a  con- 
tingent, which  indulged  in  ring-tilting,  not  unfrequently  in 
tent-pegging,  and,  more  frequently  still,  "  in  taking  a  header 
into  space,"  to  the  great  amusement  of  their  companions. 

In  those  days.  Worth  was  not  quite  king ;  the  cocodettes 
of  the  Imperial  circle  were  still  prophesying  on  their  own  ac- 
count.    The  "  arsenal  des  modes,"  as  Madame  Emile  de  Gi- 

She  disliked  her  husband,  whom  she  considered  socially  beneath  her,  and  who 
was  very  ugly  besides.  The  lines  quoted  above  are  probably  not  hers,  but 
Malezieu's,  "  her  poet  in  ordinary,"  wno  also  organi2ed  her  amateur  theatricals. 
— Editor. 

*  Idiomatically,  "  the  bores,  the  spoil -sports,  or  wet-blankets." — EDrroB. 


HIGH-BORN  BALLERINAS.  311 

rardin  had  boastingly  called  Paris  but  ten  years  previously, 
had  as  yet  not  been  boldly  taken  by  storm  by  a  native  of 
bucolic  Lincolnshire,  But  in  a  very  short  time  he  became 
the  absolute  autocrat  in  matters  of  feminine  apparel.  It  was 
not  even  an  enlightened  despotism.  His  will  Avas  law.  Every 
diiferent  entertainment  requii'ed  its  appropriate  costume,  and 
the  costume  was  frequently  the  sole  pretext  for  the  entertain- 
ment. And  when  the  ingenuity  in  devising  both  was  in 
danger  of  becoming  exhausted,  the  supreme  resource  of  these 
ladies  was  to  turn  themselves  into  ballerinas ;  not  into  balle- 
rinas as  King  Bomba,  or  the  Comte  Sosthene  de  la  Eoche- 
foucauld,  or  M.  Kouher  would  have  had  them,  but  into  balle- 
rinas with  the  shortest  of  gauze  skirts  and  pink  silk  flesh- 
ings. 

One  year,  I  am  not  certain  of  the  exact  one, — I  know  that 
the  future  Emperor  of  Germany  was  there, — the  ladies  hit 
upon  the  idea  of  giving  a  surprise  to  the  Emperor  and  Em- 
press on  the  occasion  of  the  latter's  fete-day.  A  ballet-master 
was  sent  for  in  hot  haste  from  Paris,  and  "  Le  Diable  a  Qua- 
tre  "  put  in  rehearsal.  Unlike  Peter  the  Great,  who  had  a 
soldier  hanged — he  said  shooting  was  too  good  for  him — for 
having  represented  a  disreputable  character  on  the  stage,  the 
Emperor  professed  himself  exceedingly  pleased;  and  the 
ladies,  among  whom  was  Princess  von  Metternich,  were  sent 
for  from  the  Imperial  box  to  be  complimented  by  the  sover- 
eign. At  the  ball  which  followed  the  entertainment,  they  ap- 
peared in  their  theatrical  dresses.  Every  one  was  delighted. 
"  Apres  tout,"  said  Napoleon,  blinking  his  eyes,  "  avec  cette 
manie  des  hommes  de  courir  apres  des  danseuses,  il  vaut 
mieux  leur  en  fournir  de  bonne  maison." 

The  philosophy  was  unassailable,  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
acted  upon  by  its  professor.  Napoleon  only  admired  dancers 
on  the  stage.  He  thought,  with  Balzac,  that  the  extraordi- 
nary physical  strain  upon  the  lower  extremities  necessarily  in- 
terfered with  the  intellectual  development  "  at  the  other  end." 
"  L'esprit  de  la  danseuse  est  dans  ses  jambes,  et  je  n'aime  pas 
les  femmes  betes,"  he  remarked  ;  for  the  Emperor,  like  most 
of  the  members  of  his  family,  did  not  scruple  to  apply  the 
right  word,  when  talking  to  his  familiars. 

Nevertheless,  until  he  was  assured  of  the  stupidity  of  a 
woman  by  more  intimate  acquaintance,  he  was  too  much  in- 
clined to  be  attracted  by  the  first  handsome  face  he  saw,  or, 
to  speak  by  the  card,  by  the  first  handsome  face  he  picked  out 


312  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

for  himself.  The  moment  he  was  seated  by  the  side  of  the 
Empress  in  the  Imperial  box,  during  one  of  those  perform- 
ances I  mentioned  just  now,  he  swept  the  house  with  his 
opera-glass,  and  unerringly  the  glass  stopped  at  what  was 
really  the  handsomest  woman  in  the  house,  whether  she  was 
seated  on  the  tier  with  him  or  in  the  upper  one — of  course,  I 
mean  "  the  handsomest  woman  "  among  the  strangers,  be- 
cause on  such  occasions  the  Emperor  paid  but  little  attention 
to  those  who  were  generally  around  him.  The  Empress  was 
fain  to  put  up  with  these  peccadilloes  :  she  could  not  be  al- 
ways running  away  to  Schwalbach  or  to  Scotland ;  besides, 
she  knew  that  she  would  have  to  come  back  again.  Some 
months  previous  to  the  performance  of  "  Le  Diable  a  Quatre," 
she  went  to  the  former  place  to  hide  her  mortification.  Will- 
iam of  Prussia  was  at  Baden-Baden  at  the  time,  and  he  im- 
mediately left  the  delightful  society  and  the  magnificent  rou- 
lades of  Pauline  Lucca  to  oiler  his  sympathies  to  the  Griselda 
who  had  fled  from  her  home  troubles,  forgetting  that  there 
was  another  one  at  home,  who  would  have  even  been  more 
glad  of  his  company. 

On  the  day  after  the  shooting-party  and  the  theatrical  per- 
formance, there  was  generally  an  excursion  to  Pierref  onds,  and 
afterwards  to  the  magnificent  Eoman  remains  at  Champlieu. 
In  the  evening  there  were  charades  and  carpet  dances  as 
usual. 

The  third  day  was  always  reserved  for  the  most  important 
part  of  the  programme — the  stag-hunt.  Candidly  speaking, 
I  doubt  whether  Napoleon,  though  a  very  excellent  horseman, 
cared  much  for  this  sport,  as  conducted  on  the  grand  tradi- 
tional lines  of  the  French  "  code  of  venerie."  His  main  ob- 
ject personally  was  a  good  stiff  run  with  the  hounds,  such  as 
he  had  been  used  to  in  England,  troubling  himself  little 
whether  the  pack  kept  the  scent  or  not.  In  fact,  there  were 
generally  two  packs  out,  one  of  purely  English  breed,  which 
was  followed  by  the  Emperor  and  his  guests;  the  other 
French,  followed  by  the  serious  lovers  of  sport,  who,  as  a  rule, 
caught  at  every  pretext  to  get  away  from  the  magnificently 
apparelled  crowd,  driving  or  riding  in  the  wake  of  the  sover- 
eign. Among  the  former  there  was  a  considerable  sprinkling 
of  the  landed  gentry  of  the  neighbourhood,  monarchists  and 
legitimists  to  a  man,  some  of  whom  did  not  even  condescend 
to  honour  the  Emperor  with  a  salute.  Compiegne,  Senart, 
etc.,  were,  after  all,  public  property,  and  they  could  do  as  they 


THE  STAG-HUNT.  313 

liked,  though  I  have  got  an  idea  that  this  wilful  slight  was 
an  instance  of  singular  bad  taste  on  the  part  of  these  gentle- 
men. 

The  spot  fixed  for  the  meet  was  invariably  the  large  clear- 
ing known  as  the  Carref our  du  Puits-du-Koi,  whence  radiated 
eight  immense  avenues,  stretching  as  far  as  the  uttermost  con- 
fines of  the  forest  of  Compiegne.  The  spot,  apart  from  its 
associations  with  royalty,  from  the  days  of  Clovis  up  to  our 
own,  was  admirably  chosen,  the  mise-en-scene  worthy  of  the 
greatest  stage-manager  on  record.  The  huge  centre  itself  was 
kept  clear  by  the  gendarmes  de  chasse — a  cross  between  a 
mounted  constable  and  a  ranger — from  any  but  the  officers 
of  the  garrison  on  horseback  and  other  persons  privileged  to 
join  the  Emperor's  suite.  Six  of  the  avenues  were  free  to 
the  pedestrians,  who  could  watch  every  movement  from  their 
vantage  point ;  the  seventh  was  set  apart  for  carriages  of  all 
sorts,  from  the  humble  shandrydan  of  the  local  notary  and 
doctor  to  the  magnificent  break  of  the  neighbouring  landed 
proprietor,  or  the  less  correctly  but  more  showily  appointed 
barouches  of  the  leaders  of  provincial  society,  who  rarely 
missed  an  opportunity  of  attending  these  gatherings,  where 
there  were  so  many  chances  of  coming  in  contact  with  the 
court.  Eelegated  for  at  least  ten  months  of  the  year — allow- 
ing for  an  annual  visit  to  the  capital — to  the  dull,  humdrum, 
though  often  pretentious  round  of  entertainments  of  her  own 
circle,  the  Comtesse  d'Esbargnas,*  whether  young  or  old, 
handsome  or  the  reverse,  matron  or  widow,  of  patrician  or 
plebeian  origin,  sedulously  watched  the  yearly  recurring  time 
and  tide  that  might  lead  to  a  permanent  footing  at  the  Tuil- 
eries.  What  has  happened  once  may  happen  again.  Agnes 
Sorel,  Diane  de  Poitiers,  Gabrielle  d'Estrees,  Louise  de  la  Val- 
liere,  let  alone  Jeanne  Becu  and  Jeanne  Poisson,f  had  by  no 
means  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  sudden  elevations  to  with- 
in a  step  of  the  throne.  These  new  aspirants  would  be  con- 
tent with  a  less  giddy  position.  And  who  could  say  what 
might  happen?  Had  not  Alfred  de  Musset,  the  daring  poet 
of  "  les  grandes  passions,"  written  a  play  entitled  "  II  ne  faut 
jurer  de  rien"?  Assuredly  what  had  happened  once  might 
happen  again.  Meanwhile  the  pleasure  of  watching  all  this 
splendour  was  worth  coming  for. 

*  A  character  of  one  of  Molidre's  plays,  who  lends  her  name  to  the  play  itself, 
and  who,  with  her  provincial  clique,  apes  the  manners  of  the  court. 
+  Mesdames  Du  Barry  and  Pompadour. 
14 


814  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

The  latter  proposition  hardly  admitted  of  discussion. 
The  sight  was  truly  worth  coming  for.  Though  the  Impe- 
rial suite  never  made  its  appearance  before  one,  the  main 
arteries  of  the  forest  became  crowded  as  early  as  eleven. 
Half  an  hour  later  came  La  Trace  and  La  Feuille  with  their 
Equipage.*  The  kennelmen  and  huntsmen  in  full  dress 
gathered  round  a  roaring  fire,  their  hounds  lying  at  their 
feet.  The  stablemen  and  grooms,  in  undress  livery  of  green 
and  brown,  walking  the  hunters  of  the  Emperor  and  his  suite 
to  and  fro,  presented  a  picture  full  of  colour  and  animation. 

As  a  rule  the  Imperial  cortege  was  punctual  on  those  oc- 
casions, though  it  was  often  remiss  in  that  respect  at  gather- 
erings  of  a  different  nature.  Among  the  familiars  at  the 
Tuileries  the  blame  for  this  general  unpunctuality  was  at- 
tributed in  an  equal  measure  to  both  the  Emperor  and  the 
Empress.  The  latter  dressed  very  slowly,  and  the  former 
wanted  to  dress  too  quickly.  The  result  of  this  difference  of 
habit  was  always  manifest  to  the  most  casual  observer.  The 
Empress,  after  the  most  fatiguing  day  or  soiree,  always  looked 
as  if  she  had  just  left  her  dressing-room,  the  Emperor  at  the 
beginning  of  the  same  as  if  he  had  scarcely  been  in  it.  But 
on  "  grand  hunt-days  "  the  Empress  was  never  a  minute  late ; 
and  the  reason,  apart  from  the  natural  wish  to  exercise  "  la 
politesse  des  rois,"  exactitude,  was  a  curious  one,  but  for  the 
truth  of  which  I  can  vouch.  It  gets  dark  early  in  Novem- 
ber, and  the  Empress  dreaded  to  be  overtaken  by  darkness 
in  the  forest,  even  amidst  a  crowd.  It  reminded  her  of  a 
disagreeable  episode  during  her  first  stay  at  Compi^gne,  when 
she  was  still  Mdlle.  Eugenie  de  Montijo.  She  and  her  future 
husband  had  got  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  party.  It 
was  never  accurately  known  what  happened,  but  she  was 
found  sitting  quietly  but  sorely  distressed  on  her  horse  by 
M.  de  Saint- Paul,  the  sub-ranger,  who  escorted  her  back  to 
the  Chateau.  She  explained  her  lonely  and  uncomfortable 
position  by  the  fact  that  her  companion's  horse  had  suddenly 
taken  the  bit  between  its  teeth.  The  explanation  was  a 
lame  one,  seeing  that  the  Prince- President,  on  his  return, 
hours  before,  had  looked  perfectly  composed  and  not  as  much 
as  mentioned  her  name.  The  truth  leaked  out  afterwards. 
Enraged  at  Mdlle.  de  Montijo's  refusal  to  grant  him  a  clan- 

*  "  Equipage "  is  the  right  word.    Applied  to  any  but  military  or  bunting 
uses,  it  is  out  of  place,  though  frequently  thus  used. — Editob. 


THE  EMPRESS'S  TEMPER.  315 

destine  interview  for  that  night,  lier  princely  suitor  had  left 
her  to  find  her  way  back  as  best  she  could. 

Invariably,  then,  at  the  stroke  of  one,  the  Imperial  pro- 
cession was  signalled,  for  it  was  nothing  less  than  a  proces- 
sion. At  its  head  rode  the  chief  ranger  of  Compiegne,  Baron 
de  "Wimpffen,  in  a  magnificent  hunting-coat  of  green  and 
gold,  the  laced  tricornered  hat,  surmounted  by  a  bunch  of 
black  plumes,  jackboots,  and  white  doeskins.  Then  came 
the  Imperial  break,  drawn  by  six  horses,  mounted  by  postil- 
ions in  powdered  wigs,  the  Imperial  host  and  hostess  on  the 
front  seat,  the  members  of  the  family,  or  some  illustrious 
guests,  behind ;  the  rest  of  the  breaks  were  only  four-horsed, 
and  the  procession  was  closed  by  the  carriage  of  M.  Hyrvoix, 
the  chief  of  the  secret  police.  In  Paris  this  arrangement 
was  reversed,  and  M.  Hyrvoix,  who  had  the  rank  of  a  prefect, 
and  took  his  place  as  such  at  all  public  functions,  preceded 
instead  of  following  the  Imperial  carriage. 

I  am  inclined  to  think,  notwithstanding  the  frequent  out- 
cries against  the  secret  police  during  the  second  empire,  that 
M.  Hyrvoix  was  a  thoroughly  upright  and  conscientious 
servant.  Unfortunately  for  himself  and  his  Imperial  mas- 
ters, his  position  was  a  difficult  one ;  for  though  professedly 
employed  to  gauge  public  opinion  with  regard  to  the  dynas- 
ty, his  reports  to  that  effect  were  not  always  received  with 
the  consideration  due  to  honest  truth,  at  any  rate  by  the 
Empress.  Throughout  these  pages,  I  have  endeavoured  as 
far  as  possible  to  jot  down  my  recollections  in  a  kind  of 
chronological  order,  rather  than  in  the  order  they  occurred 
to  me ;  but  in  this,  as  in  many  other  instances,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  anticipate  the  course  of  events  lest  they  should 
slip  my  memory,  for  I  had  no  documents  to  go  by,  and  also 
to  avoid  unnecessary  repetitions.  This  particular  part  of 
my  somewhat  disjointed  narrative  was  meant  to  deal  with 
the  festivities  at  Compiegne  and  the  company  there ;  on 
reading  it  over,  I  find  that  it  has  developed  into  a  fragment 
of  biography  of  the  Emperor  and  his  Consort.  As  such,  the 
following  stories  will  throw  a  valuable  side  light  on  their 
different  dispositions. 

When  the  news  of  Emperor  Maximilian's  death  reached 
Paris,  there  was  the  rumbling  of  a  storm  which  foreboded  no 
good.  For  days  before,  there  had  been  vague  rumours  of 
the  catastrophe.  It.  had  been  whispered  at  the  annual  dis- 
tribution of  prizes  at  the  College  de  France,  where  one  of 


316  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  young  Cavaignacs  had  refused  to  receive  his  reward  at 
the  hands  of  the  Prince  Imperial.  In  short,  indignation 
was  rife  among  all  classes.  The  Empress,  on  hearing  of  the 
insult,  had  burst  into  hysterical  tears,  and  been  obliged  to 
leave  the  reception-rooms.  In  short,  a  dark  cloud  hung  over 
the  Tuileries.  I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  the  Mexican  ex- 
pedition, so  need  not  enlarge  upon  it  here.  We  will  take  it 
that  both  Napoleon  and  his  wife  were  altogether  blameless 
in  the  affair — which  was  by  no  means  the  case, — but  a  mo- 
ment's reflection  ought  to  have  shown  them  that  appearances 
were  against  them,  and  that  the  discontent  expressed  was  so 
far  justified.  I  am  under  the  impression  that  Napoleon  him- 
self looked  at  it  in  that  way ;  he  bowed  to  the  storm ;  he  re- 
gretted, but  did  not  resent  people  speaking  ill  of  him.  Not 
so  the  Empress ;  the  truth  was  only  welcome  to  her  when  it 
flattered  her ;  she  really  fancied  herself  an  autocrat  by  the 
Grace  of  God,  as  the  previous  Bourbons  interpreted  the 
term.  In  spite  of  all  that  has  been  said  about  her  amia- 
bility, about  her  charity,  Eugenie  was  in  reality  cruel  at 
heart.  No  woman,  not  cruel,  could  have  taken  the  prin- 
cipal part  in  a  scene  which  I  will  describe  presently.  But 
she  was  vindictive  also,  and,  what  was  worse,  blindly  vin- 
dictive. Though  firmly  convinced  that  she  reigned  by  right 
divine,  she  had  felt  more  than  once  that  private  revenge  on 
"  the  people  "  who  abused  her  was  beyond  her  power.  She 
not  only  fretted  accordingly,  but  often  vented  her  wrath  on 
the  first  victim  that  came  to  hand,  albeit  that  the  latter  was 
generally  the  mere  innocent  conveyance  through  which  the 
voice  of  "  the  people  "  reached  her.  M.  Hyrvoix,  in  virtue 
of  his  functions,  often  found  himself  the  echo  of  that  voice. 
He  was  generally  the  first  of  all  the  officials  to  present  his 
daily  report.  The  Emperor  gave  him  his  cue  by  asking, 
"  What  do  the  people  say  ?  " 

On  that  particular  morning,  after  the  death  of  Maxi- 
milian had  become  known,  the  answer  came  not  as  readily  as 
usual ;  for  the  chief  of  the  secret  police  was  not  in  the  habit 
of  mincing  matters.  This  time,  however,  M.  Hyrvoix  kept 
silent  for  a  while,  then  replied,  "  The  people  d,o  not  say  any- 
thing, sire." 

Napoleon  must  have  noticed  the  hesitating  manner ;  for 
he  said  at  once,  "  You  are  not  telling  me  the  truth.  What 
do  the  people  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  sire,  if  you  wish  to  know,  not  only  the  people,  but 


THE  VICTIMS  OF  IT.  317 

every  one  is  deeply  indignant  and  disgusted  with  the  conse- 
quences of  this  unfortunate  war.  It  is  commented  upon 
everywhere  in  the  selfsame  spirit.  They  say  it  is  the  fault 
of " 

"  The  fault  of  whom  ?  "  repeated  Napoleon. 

Whereupon  M.  Hyrvoix  kept  silent  once  more. 

"  The  fault  of  whom  ?  "  insisted  Napoleon. 

"  Sire,"  stammered  M.  Hyrvoix,  "  in  the  time  of  Louiff 
XVI.  people  said,  '  It  is  the  fault  of  the  Austrian  woman.'  " 

"  Yes,  go  on." 

"  Under  Napoleon  III.  people  say,  '  It  is  the  fault  of  the 
Spanish  woman. ' " 

The  words  had  scarcely  left  M.  Hyrvoix'  lips,  when  a 
door  leading  to  the  inner  apartments  opened,  and  the  Em- 
press appeared  on  the  threshold.  "  She  looked  like  a  beauti- 
ful fury,"  said  M.  Hyrvoix  to  his  friend,  from  whom  I  have 
got  the  story.  "  She  wore  a  white  dressing-gown,  her  hair 
was  waving  on  her  shoulders,  and  her  eyes  shot  flames.  She 
hissed,  rather  than  spoke,  as  she  bounded  towards  me  ;  and, 
ridiculous  as  it  may  seem,  I  felt  afraid  for  the  moment. 
'  You  will  please  repeat  what  you  said  just  now,  M.  Hyrvoix,' 
she  gasped  in  a  voice  hoarse  with  anger. 

"  '  Certainly,  madame,'  I  replied,  '  seeing  that  I  am  here  to 
speak  the  truth,  and,  as  such,  your  Majesty  will  pardon  me. 
I  told  the  Emperor  that  the  Parisians  spoke  of  *  the  Spanish 
woman,'  as  they  spoke  seventy-five  and  eighty  years  ago  of 
'  the  Austrian  woman.' " 

"  '  The  Spanish  woman  !  the  Spanish  woman  ! '  she  jerked 
out  three  or  four  times — and  I  could  see  that  her  hands  were 
clenched ; — '  I  have  become  French,  but  I  will  show  my 
enemies  that  I  can  be  Spanish  when  occasion  demands  it.' 

"  With  this  she  left  as  suddenly  as  she  had  come,  taking 
no  notice  of  the  Emperor's  uplifted  hand  to  detain  her. 
When  the  door  closed  upon  her,  I  said  to  the  Emperor, '  I 
am  more  than  grieved,  sire,  that  I  spoke.' 

" '  You  did  your  duty,'  he  said,  grasping  my  hand." 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  threat  to  show  her  enemies 
that  she  could  be  Spanish  when  occasion  required  was,  in 
this  instance,  an  empty  one,  because  "  the  enemies "  hap- 
pened to  be  legion.  A  scapegoat  was  found,  however,  in  the 
honest  functionary  who  had,  in  the  exercise  of  his  duty, 
frankly  warned  the  Emperor  of  the  ugly  things  that  were 
said  about  her.     Next  morning,  M.  Hyrvoix  was  appointed 


318  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Keceiver-General  for  one  of  the  departments — that  is,  exiled 
to  the  provinces. 

This  system  of  ostracism  was  indiscriminately  applied 
to  all  who  happened  to  offend  her.  Unfortunately,  the 
slightest  divergence  of  opinion  on  the  most  trifling  matter 
was  construed  into  an  offence  ;  hence  in  a  few  years  the  so- 
called  counsellors  around  the  Emperor  were  simply  so  many 
automata,  moving  at  her  will,  and  at  her  will  only.  Men  who 
ventured  to  think  for  themselves  were  removed,  or  else  volun- 
tarily retired  from  the  precincts  of  the  court  sooner  than 
submit  to  a  tyranny,  not  based  like  that  of  Catherine  II. 
or  Elizabeth  upon  great  intellectual  gifts,  but  upon  the  way- 
ward impulses  of  a  woman  in  no  way  distinguished  mentally 
from  the  meanest  of  her  sex,  except  by  an  overweening  am- 
bition and  an  equally  overweening  conceit. 

And  as  nothing  is  so  apt  to  breed  injustice  as  injustice, 
men,  who  might  have  proved  the  salvation  of  the  Second 
Empire  in  its  hour  of  direst  need,  were  absolutely  driven 
into  opposition,  and  so  blinded  by  resentment  as  to  be  unable 
to  distinguish  any  longer  between  France  and  those  who 
impelled  her  to  her  ruin. 

Lest  I  should  be  taxed  with  exaggeration,  a  few  instances 
among  the  many  will  suffice.  One  evening,  in  the  course  of 
those  charades  of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  some  of  the 
performers,  both  men  and  women,  had  thrown  all  decorum 
to  the  winds  in  their  improvised  dialogue.  A  young  colonel, 
by  no  means  strait-laced  or  a  hypocrite,  who  was  a  great 
favourite  with  the  Emperor  and  Empress,  professed  himself 
shocked,  in  the  hearing  of  the  latter,  at  so  much  licence  in 
the  presence  of  the  sovereigns.  In  reality,  it  was  an  honest 
but  indirect  comment  upon  the  Empress's  blamable  latitude 
in  that  respect.  The  Empress  took  up  the  cudgels  for  the 
offenders.  "  Vous  n'^tes  pas  content,  colonel ;  he  bien  !  je 
m^en  fiche,  refiche  et  contrefiche.''^  ("  You  don't  like  it,  colo- 
nel ;  well,  I  don't  care  a  snap,  nor  two  snaps,  nor  a  thou- 
sand snaps."  *)  The  Emperor  laughed,  and  applauded  his 
Consort ;  the  colonel  took  the  hint,  and  was  seen  at  court  no 
more.  Shortly  afterward  he  went  to  Mexico,  where  all  who 
saw  him  at  work  concurred  in  saying  that  he  was  not  only 

*  My  translation  by  no  means  renders  the  vulfijarity  of  the  sentence.  The 
French  have  three  words  to  express  their  contempt  for  a  speaker's  opinion,  ss 
moqu-er,  se  Jicher,  and  ««...!  omit  the  latter,  but  even  the  second  is  rarely 
used  in  decent  society. — Editor. 


M.  BOITELLE.  319 

a  most  valuable  soldier,  but  probably  the  only  one  in  the 
French  army,  of  those  days,  capable  of  handling  large  masses. 
Nevertheless,  when  the  war  of  '70  broke  out,  he  was  still  a 
colonel,  and  no  attempt  at  offering  him  a  command  was 
made.  The  republicans,  for  once  in  a  way,  were  wiser  in 
their  generation  :  at  this  hour  he  holds  a  high  position  in 
the  army,  and  is  destined  to  occupy  a  still  higher.  It  was  he 
who  counselled  Bazaine,  in  the  beginning  of  the  investment 
of  Metz,  to  leave  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  men  behind  to 
defend  the  fortress,  and  to  break  through  with  the  rest. 
According  to  the  best  authorities  of  the  German  general  staff, 
the  advice,  had  it  been  followed,  would  have  materially 
altered  the  state  of  affairs.  It  is  not  my  intention  to  enlarge 
upon  that  soldier's  career  or  capabilities  ;  I  have  merely  men- 
tioned them  to  show  that,  when  her  resentment  was  roused, 
Eugenie  threw  all  considerations  for  the  welfare  of  France 
to  the  winds,  and  systematically  ostracized  men,  whatever 
their  merits ;  for  I  may  add  that  the  young  colonel,  at  the 
time  of  the  scene  described  above,  was  known  to  be  one  of 
the  ablest  of  strategists. 

We  have  heard  a  great  deal  of  the  Empress's  charity. 
Truth  to  tell,  that  charity  was  often  as  indiscriminate  as  her 
anger ;  it  was  sporadic,  largely  admixed  with  the  histrionic 
element,  not  unfrequently  prompted  by  sentimentalism  rather 
than  by  sentiment ;  and  woe  to  him  or  to  her  who  ventured 
to  hint  that  it,  the  charity,  was  misplaced.  In  those  days 
there  was  a  prefect  of  police,  M.  Boitelle.  He  was  a  worthy 
man,  endowed  with  a  great  deal  of  common  sense,  and,  above 
all,  honest  to  a  degree.  Belonging  to  the  middle  classes,  he 
was  free  from  the  vulgar  greed  that  so  often  distinguishes 
them  in  France  ;  and,  after  leaving  the  army  as  a  non-com- 
missioned officer,  had  settled  on  a  small  farm  left  to  him  by 
his  parents.  Now,  it  so  happened  that  M.  de  Persigny, 
whose  real  name  was  Fialin,  had  been  a  sergeant  in  the  same 
regiment,  and  one  day,  after  the  advent  of  the  Empire,  being 
in  the  north,  went  to  pay  his  former  comrade  a  visit.  I  am 
perfectly  certain  that  M.  Boitelle,  whom  I  knew,  and  with 
whose  son  I  have  continued  the  amicable  relations  subsisting 
between  his  father  and  myself,  did  not  solicit  any  honours  or 
appointment  from  the  then  powerful  friend  of  the  Emperor ; 
nevertheless,  Persigny  appointed  his  fellow-messmate  to  the 
sub-prefectorship  ©f  St.  Quentin.  The  emoluments,  even  in 
those  days,  were  not  large,  but  M.  Boitelle  was  only  a  small 


320  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

farmer,  and  the  promise  of  quick  preferment  may  have  in- 
duced him  to  leave  his  peaceful  homestead ;  in  short,  M.  Boi- 
telle  accepted,  and,  after  several  promotions,  found  himself 
at  last  at  the  Paris  Prefecture  of  Police.  In  this  instance 
the  choice  was  really  a  good  one.  I  have  known  a  good 
many  prefects  of  police,  among  others  M.  de  Maupas,  who 
officiated  on  the  night  of  the  Coup  d'Etat,  and  who  was  also 
a  personal  friend ;  but  I  never  knew  one  so  thoroughly  fitted 
for  the  arduous  post  as  M.  Boitelle.  Though  not  a  man  of 
vast  reading  or  brilliant  education,  he  was  essentially  a  man 
of  the  world  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  He  was  not  a 
martinet,  but  a  capable  disciplinarian,  and,  what  was  better 
still,  endowed  with  a  feeling  of  great  tolerance  for  the  foibles 
of  modern  society.  The  soldier  and  the  philosopher  were 
so  inextricably  mixed  up  in  him,  that  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  say  where  the  one  ended  and  the  other  began. 
M.  de  Maupas  was  at  times  too  conscious  of  his  own  impor- 
tance; there  was  too  much  of  the  French  official  in  him. 
His  successful  co-operation  in  the  Coup  d'Etat  had  imbued 
him  with  an  exaggerated  notion  of  his  own  capabilities  of 
"  taking  people  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  and  running  them 
in  "  (a  empoigner  les  gens).  An  English  friend  of  mine,  to 
whom  I  introduced  him,  summed  him  up,  perhaps,  more  fitly. 
"  He  is  like  the  policeman  who  ran  in  a  woman  of  sixty  all 
by  himself,  and  boasted  that  he  could  have  done  it  if  she  had 
been  eighty." 

But  M.  Boitelle,  though  kind-hearted,  had  no  sympathy 
whatsoever  with  mawkish  philanthropy.  The  Empress,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  absolute  paroxysms  of  it.  She  was  like 
the  Spanish  high-born  dame  who  insisted  upon  a  tombstone 
for  the  grave  of  a  bull,  the  killing  and  torturing  of  which  in 
the  ring  she  had  frantically  applauded.  One  day  she  ex- 
pressed her  wish  to  M.  Boitelle  to  pay  a  visit  to  Saint-Lazare. 
There  is  nothing  analogous  to  that  institution  in  England. 
The  "  unfortunate  woman  "  who  prowls  about  the  streets  be- 
fore or  after  nightfall  is — except  in  a  few  garrison  towns — 
tacitly  ignored  by  our  legislators,  and  when  she  offends 
against  the  common  law,  treated  by  our  magistrates  like  any 
other  member  of  society.  We  have  no  establishments  where 
the  moral  cancer  eats  deeper  into  the  flesh  and  the  mind  by 
the  very  attempt  to  isolate  those  who  suffer  most  from  it ;  we 
have  no  system  which  virtually  bars  the  way  to  a  reformed 
life  by  having  given  official  authority  to  sin,  and  by  record- 


THE  EMPRESS  VISITS  SAINT-LAZARE.  321 

ing  for  evermore  the  names  of  those  whom  want  alone  com- 
pelled to  have  themselves  inscribed  as  outcasts  on  those  hell- 
ish registers.  We  have  no  Saint-Lazare,  and  Heaven  be 
praised  for  it ! 

M.  Boitelle  knew  the  moral  and  mental  state  of  most  of 
the  inmates  of  Saint-Lazare  suflficiently  well  to  foster  no  illu- 
sions with  regard  to  the  benefit  to  be  derived  by  them  from 
the  solitary  visit  of  so  exalted  a  personage,  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  felt  perfectly  aware  that  it  was  morbid  curi- 
osity, however  well  disguised,  that  prompted  the  step.  At 
the  same  time,  the  respect  due  to  his  sovereign  made  him 
reluctant  to  expose  her,  needlessly,  to  a  possible,  if  not  to  a 
probable  insult ;  in  short,  he  considered  the  projected  "  tour 
of  inspection  "  an  ill-concerted  one.  He  also  knew  that  it 
would  be  idle  to  bring  his  fund  of  shrewd  philosophy  to  bear 
iipon  the  Empress,  to  make  her  relinquish  her  design,  so 
he  adopted  instead  the  outspoken  method  of  the  soldier. 
"  Whatever  your  charitable  feelings  may  be  for  those  who 
suffer,  madame,"  he  said,  "  your  place  is  not  among  them." 
The  words  sound  a  shade  more  abrupt  in  French,  but  a 
moment's  reflection  would  have  shown  the  most  fastidious 
lady  that  no  offence  on  the  speaker's  part  was  intended. 
The  Empress,  however,  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height. 
"  Charity  can  go  any  and  everywhere,  monsieur,"  she  replied. 
"  You  will  please  take  me  to  Saint-Lazare  to-morrow." 

I  would  fain  say  as  little  as  possible  about  the  occupants 
of  that  gloomy  building  at  the  top  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Denis, 
but  am  compelled  to  state  in  common  fairness  that,  when 
once  they  are  incarcerated  and  behave  themselves — of  course, 
according  to  their  lights — they  are  not  treated  with  unneces- 
sary harshness.  I  will  go  further,  and  say  that  they  are 
treated  more  leniently  than  female  prisoners  in  other  penal 
establishments.  The  milder  method  is  due  to  the  presence 
in  greater  numbers  than  elsewhere  of  that  admirable  angel 
of  patience,  the  Sister  of  Charity,  who  has  no  private  griev- 
ances to  avenge  upon  her  own  sex,  who  does  not  look  upon 
the  fallen  woman  as  an  erstwhile  and  unsuccessful  rival  for 
the  favours  of  men,  who  consequently  does  not  apply  the  voe 
victis,  either  by  sign,  deed,  or  word.  During  my  long  stay 
in  Paris,  I  have  been  allowed  to  visit  Saint-Lazare  twice,  and 
I  can  honestly  say  that,  though  the  laws  that  relegate  these 
women  there  are  -a  disgrace  to  nineteenth-century  civiliza- 
tion, their  application  inside  Saint-Lazare  is  not  at  all  brutal. 


322  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

This  does  not  imply  that  they  lie  upon  down  beds,  and  that 
their  food  is  of  the  most  delicate  description ;  but  they  are 
well  cared  for  bodily.  The  Empress,  however,  in  a  gush  of 
misplaced  charity,  thought  fit  to  take  objection  to  their  daily 
meals  not  being  concluded  with  dessert.  Thereupon,  M.  Boi- 
telle,  whose  sound  common  sense  had  already  been  severely 
tried  during  that  morning,  could  not  help  smiling.  "  Keally, 
madame,"  he  said ;  "  you  allow  your  kindness  to  run  away 
with  your  good  sense.  If  they  are  to  have  a  dessert,  what 
are  we  to  give  to  honest  women  ?  " 

Next  day,  M.  Boitelle  was  appointed  a  senator;  that  is, 
removed  from  his  post  as  prefect  of  police,  which  he  had  so 
worthily  filled,  and  where  he  had  done  a  great  deal  of  un- 
ostentatious good.  The  next  time  M.  Boitelle  came  in  con- 
tact with  the  Empress  was  at  the  last  hour  of  the  Empire, 
when  he  tried,  but  in  vain,  to  overcome  her  resentment,  caused 
by  his  unhappy  speech  of  many  years  before. 

Yet  the  woman  who  could  indulge  in  sentiment  about  the 
absence  of  dessert  in  the  Saint- Lazare  refectory,  would,  at  the 
end  of  the  hunt,  deliberately  jump  off  her  horse,  plunge  the 
gleaming  knife  in  the  throat  of  the  panting  stag,  and  revel 
in  the  sight  of  blood.  Many  who  saw  her  do  this  argued  that 
in  the  hour  of  danger  she  would  as  boldly  face  the  enemies 
of  herself  and  her  dynasty.  I  need  not  say  that  they  were 
utterly  mistaken.  She  slunk  away  at  the  supreme  hour; 
while  the  princess,  whom  she  had  presumed  to  teach  the 
manners  of  a  court,  left  like  a  princess  in  an  open  landau, 
preceded  by  an  outrider.    I  am  alluding  to  Princess  Clotilde. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  CELEBRATED  SCULPTOR.       323 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  story  of  a  celebrated  sculptor  and  his  model — David  d' Angers  at  the  funeral 
of  Cortot,  the  sculptor — How  I  became  acquainted  with  him — The  sculptor 
leaves  the  funeral  procession  to  speak  to  a  woman — He  tells  me  the  story — 
David  d'Angers'  sympathy  with  Greece  in  her  struggle  for  independence 
— When  Botzaris  falls  at  Missolonghi,  he  makes  up  his  mind  to  carve  his 
monument — AVishes  to  do  something  original — He  finds  his  idea  in  the 
cemetery  of  Pere-la-Chaise — In  search  of  a  model — Comes  unexpectedly 
upon  her  in  the  Rue  du  Montparnasse,  while  in  company  of  Victor  Hugo — 
The  model  and  her  mother — The  bronze  Christ  on  tne  studio  wall — David 
gives  it  to  his  model — The  latter  dismissed — A  plot  against  the  sculptor's 
life — His  model  saves  him — He  tries  to  find  her  and  fails — Only  meets  with 
her  when  walking  behind  the  hearse  of  Cortot — She  appears  utterly  desti- 
tute— Loses  sieht  of  her  again — Meets  her  on  the  outer  boulevards  with  a 
nondescript  of  the  worst  character — He  endeavours  to  rescue  her,  but  fails 
— Canler,  of  the  Paris  police,  reveals  the  tactics  pursued  with  regard  to 
"  unfortunates  " — David's  exile  and  death — The  Botzaris  Monument  is 
brought  back  to  Paris  to  be  restored — The  model  at  the  door  of  the  exhibl- 
tion^Her  death. 

In  connection  with  the  treatment  of  "  fallen  women  "  in 
Paris,  I  may  give  the  following  story,  which  becomes  inter- 
esting in  virtue  of  the  personality  of  one  of  the  actors.  In 
1843  the  sculptor  Cortot  died,  and  I  followed  his  funeral  on 
foot,  as  was  the  custom  in  those  days.  I  walked  by  the  side 
of  one  of  the  greatest  artists  France,  or,  for  that  matter,  the 
world,  has  ever  produced — David  d'Angers.  The  name  of 
his  native  town  was  adopted  to  distinguish  him  from  his  cele- 
brated namesake,  the  painter,  I  had  become  acquainted  with 
the  great  sculptor  a  twelvemonth  previously,  in  Delacroix's 
studio.  All  at  once,  as  the  procession  went  along  the  Quai 
Malaquais,  I  saw  him  start  violently,  and  break  through  what, 
for  want  of  a  more  appropriate  term,  I  must  call  the  ranks  of 
mourners.  For  a  moment  only ;  the  next,  he  was  back  by  my 
side :  but  I  noticed  that  he  was  f  riglitf  ully  agitated.  He  prob- 
ably saw  my  concern  for  him  in  my  face,  for,  though  I  asked 
him  no  questions,  he  said  of  his  own  accord,  "  It  is  all  right. 
I  just  caught  sight  of  a  woman  who  saved  my  life,  and,  by 
the  looks  of  her,  she  is  in  great  straits,  but,  by  the  time  I  got 


32  i  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

out  of  the  crowd,  she  had  disappeared.  I  have  an  idea  of  the 
errand  she  was  bent  upon,  and  will  inquire  to-morrow,  but  I 
am  afraid  it  will  be  of  very  little  use." 

I  kept  silent  for  a  moment  or  two,  but  my  curiosity  was 
aroused,  for,'  I  repeat,  at  that  time,  the  artistic  world  was 
ringing  with  the  name  of  David  d' Angers. 

"  I  did  not  know  you  had  been  in  such  great  danger,"  I 
said  at  last. 

"Very  few  people  do  know  it,"  he  replied  sadly;  "be- 
sides, it  happened  a  good  many  years  ago,  when  you  were 
very  young.  The  next  time  we  meet  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it." 

A  week  or  so  afterwards,  as  I  was  leaving  the  Caf6  de 
Paris  one  evening,  and  going  to  the  tobacconist  at  the  corner 
of  the  Eue  Laffite,  I  ran  against  the  celebrated  sculptor.  The 
weather  was  mild,  and  we  sat  outside  Tortoni's,  where  he 
told  me  the  story,  part  of  which  I  give  in  his  own  words,  as 
far  as  I  can  remember  them  after  the  lapse  of  more  than 
forty  years. 

"  If  there  were  any  need,"  he  began,  "  to  apologize  to  an 
Englishman  for  my  sympathy  with  the  Philhellenism  which 
shortened  the  life  of  Byron,  I  might  say  that  I  sucked  the 
principle  of  the  independence  of  nations  with  the  mother's 
milk,  for  I  was  born  in  1789.  Be  that  as  it  may,  when 
Marcos  Botzaris  fell  at  Missolonghi  I  felt  determined  that 
he  should  have  a  monument  worthy  of  his  heroism  and  pa- 
triotism, as  far  as  my  talents  could  contribute  to  it.  I  was 
sufficiently  young  to  be  enthusiastic,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
sufficiently  presumptuous  to  imagine  that  I  could  do  some- 
thing which  had  never  been  done  before.  You  have  seen  the 
engraving  of  the  monument ;  you  may  judge  for  yourself 
how  far  I  succeeded.  But  the  idea  of  the  composition,  how- 
ever out  of  the  common,  was,  I  am  bound  to  admit,  not  the 
offspring  of  my  own  imagination.  I  was,  perhaps,  clevej' 
enough  to  see  the  poesy  of  it  when  presented  to  me,  and  to 
appropriate  it ;  but  the  young,  fragile  girl  lying  on  the  tomb- 
stone and  tracing  the  name  of  Marcos  Botzaris  was  suggested 
to  me  by  a  scene  I  witnessed  one  day  at  Pere-la-Chaise.  I 
saw  a  child  stooping  over  a  gravestone,  and  trying  to  spell 
out  the  words  carved  on  it.  It  was  all  I  wanted.  I  own, 
from  that  moment,  my  composition  took  shape  in  my  mind. 
I  was,  however,  still  at  a  loss  where  to  find  the  ideal  child. 
The  little  girl  of  whom  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  would  not 


IN  SEARCH  OF  A  MODEL.  325 

have  done  at  all  for  my  purpose,  even  if  her  parents  would 
have  consented  to  let  her  sit,  which  was  not  at  all  likely — she 
was  the  prosperous-looking  demoiselle  of  a  probably  prosper- 
ous bourgeoise  family,  well-fed,  plump,  and  not  above  seven 
or  eight.  I,  on  the  contrary,  wanted  a  girl  double  that  age 
just  budding  into  womanhood,  but  with  the  travail  of  the 
transition  expressed  in  every  feature,  in  every  limb.  She  was 
to  represent  to  the  most  casual  observer  the  sufferings  en- 
gendered by  the  struggle  against  tutelage  for  freedom.  She 
was  to  bend  over  the  tomb  of  Botzaris  to  drag  the  secret  of 
that  freedom  from  him.  Dawning  life  was  to  drag  the  secret 
from  the  dead. 

"  That  was  my  idea,  and  for  several  days  I  cudgelled  my 
brain  to  find  among  my  models  one  that  would,  physically 
and  morally,  represent  all  this.  In  vain ;  the  grisettes  of  the 
Kue  Fleurus  and  the  Quartier-Latin,  in  spite  of  all  that  has 
been  said  of  them  by  the  poets  and  novelists  of  that  time, 
were  not  at  all  the  visible  incarnations  of  lofty  sentiment ; 
whatever  pain  and  grief  an  unrequited  romantic  passion 
might  entail,  they  left  no  appreciable  traces  on  their  com- 
plexions or  in  their  outline ;  they  were  saucy  madams,  and 
looked  it.  I  had  communicated  my  wants  to  some  of  my 
friends,  and  one  of  them  sent  me  what  he  thought  would 
suit.  The  face  was  certainly  a  very  beautiful  one,  as  an  ab- 
solutely perfect  ensemble  of  classical  features  I  have  never 
seen  the  like  ;  but  there  was  about  as  much  expression  in  it 
as  in  my  hand,  and,  as  for  the  body,  it  was  simply  bursting 
out  of  its  dress.  I  told  her  she  would  not  do,  and  the  reason 
why.  '  Monsieur  can't  expect  me  to  go  into  a  consumption 
for  two  francs  fifty  an  hour,'  she  remarked,  bouncing  out  of 
the  room. 

"  I  was  fast  becoming  a  nuisance  to  all  my  cronies,  when, 
one  day,  going  to  dine  with  Victor  Hugo  at  La  M^re  Saget's, 
which  was  at  the  Barriere  du  Maine,  I  came  unexpectedly, 
in  the  Rue  du  Montparnasse,  upon  the  very  girl  for  which  I 
had  been  looking  out  for  months.  Notwithstanding  her 
rags,  she  was  simply  charming.  She  was  not  above  fourteen 
or  fifteen,  and,  although  very  tall  for  her  age,  she  had 
scarcely  any  flesh  on  her  bones.  I  only  knew  her  Christian 
name — Clementine :  I  doubt  whether  she  had  any  other. 
Next  morning  she  came  with  her  mother,  an  old  hag,  dissi- 
pation and  drunkenness  written  in  every  line  of  her  face. 
But  the  child  herself  was  perfectly  innocent — at  any  rate,  as 


326  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

innocent  as  she  could  be  with  such  a  parent,  and  tractable  to 
a  degree.  After  a  little  while  the  old  woman,  tired  of  twirl- 
ing her  thumbs,  disgusted,  perhaps,  at  my  want  of  hospitality 
in  not  ofifering  her  refreshments,  left  off  accompanying  her  ^ 
Clementine  came  henceforth  alone. 

"  My  studio  was  in  the  Eue  de  Fleurus  in  those  days,  and 
on  the  wall  hung  a  very  handsome  bronze  Christ  on  a  velvet 
panel  and  in  a  dark  satin  frame.  Curiously  enough,  I  often 
caught  the  mother  watching  it ;  it  seemed  to  have  an  irre- 
sistible fascination  for  her :  and,  one  day,  while  the  child  was 
dressing,  after  two  or  three  hours  of  hard  work,  she  suddenly 
exclaimed,  '  That's  why  my  mother  will  not  come  here  ;  she 
says  she'd  commit  a  robbery.  She  never  leaves  off  talking 
about  it.  I  wonder  whether  you'd  like  to  part  with  it,  M. 
David  ?  A  Christ  like  that  would  be  beautiful  in  our  attic. 
It  would  comfort  and  cheer  me.  If  you  like,  I'll  buy  it  of 
you.  Of  course,  I  have  no  money,  but  you  can  deduct  it 
from  my  sittings.  You  can  have  as  many  as  you  like,  not 
only  for  this  statue,  but  for  any  other  you  may  want  later 
on.' 

"  We  democrats,  professed  republicans,  and  more  than 
suspected  revolutionaries,  are  not  credited  by  the  majority 
with  a  great  reverence  for  religious  dogma ;  we  are  generally 
branded  as  absolute  freethinkers,  not  to  say  atheists.  This  is 
frequently  a  mistake.*  I  have  no  occasion  to  recite  my 
credo  to  you,  but  a  great  many  of  the  republicans  of  '89  and 
of  to-day  were  and  are  believers.  At  any  rate,  I  fondly 
imagined  that  the  Christ  for  which  the  mother  and  child 
were  longing  might  exercise  some  salutary  influence  on  their 
lives,  so  I  simply  took  down  the  frame  and  its  contents  and 
handed  them  to  her  She  staggered  under  the  weight. 
'  You  want  that  Christ,'  I  said ;  '  here  it  is :  and  when  you 
are  tempted  to  do  evil  look  at  it,  and  think  of  me,  who  gave 
it  you  as  a  present.' 

'"As  a  present  ?  '  she  shrieked  for  joy ;  and  hurried  away 
as  fast  as  her  legs  would  carry  her. 

"  In  about  six  months  from  that  day  the  statue  was  fin- 
ished.    I  had  no  further  need  of  Clementine's  services,  and 

*  It  is  a  mistake.    Not  to  mention  Camille  Desmoulins,  who,  when  asked  ' 
his  age  by  his  iudge,  replied,  "The  age  of  another  sans-culotte^  Jesus,"  Esquiros 
frequently  spoke  of  "  that  good  patriot,  Christ ; "  Lammenais  began  the  draft  of 
his  constitution  with  "  In  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  by  the  will  of  the  French  people." — Editob. 


THE  MODEL  FOUND.  *  327 

gradually  all  thought  of  her  slipped  from  my  mind.  You 
may  have  heard  that  some  time  after  my  work  was  despatched 
to  Greece,  I  was  assaulted  one  night  in  the  Kue  Childebert, 
on  my  way  to  Gerard  de  Nerval's.  My  skull  was  split  open 
in  two  places,  I  was  left  for  dead  in  the  street,  and  but  for  a 
workman  who  stumbled  over  me,  took  me  home,  and  sat  up 
with  me  until  morning,  I  might  not  have  lived  to  tell  the 
tale.  From  the  very  first  I  suspected  the  identity  of  my 
assailant,  though  I  have  never  breathed  his  name  to  any  one. 
I  am  glad  to  say  I  never  had  many  enemies,  nor  have  I  now, 
as  far  as  I  am  aware ;  but  I  had  offended  the  man  by  with- 
holding my  vote  in  a  prize  competition.  He  was,  however, 
not  responsible  for  his  actions ;  for  even  at  that  time  he 
must  have  been  mad.  A  few  years  afterwards,  the  suspicion 
both  of  his  madness  and  his  attempt  upon  my  life  became  a 
certainty,  for  he  repeated  the  latter.  You  are  very  young, 
and  youth  is  either  very  credulous  or  very  sceptical.  We 
should  be  neither.  If  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  now  were 
to  be  represented  to  you  at  the  Ambigu  or  Porte  Saint- 
Martin,  you,  as  an  educated  man,  would  shrug  your  shoulders, 
and  look  with  a  kind  of  good-natured  contempt  upon  the 
grisette  or  workman  or  bourgeois  who  would  sit  spellbound 
and  take  it  all  in  as  so  much  gospel.  Providence,  fate,  call 
it  what  you  will,  concocts  more  striking  dramatic  situations 
and  a  greater  number  of  them  than  M.  Scribe  and  all  his 
compeers  have  constructed  in  the  course  of  their  professional 
careers.     Listen,  and  you  shall  judge  for  yourself. 

"About  seven  years  after  the  attack  in  the  Rue  Childe- 
bert, I  received  a  letter  one  morning,  inviting  me  to  attend  a 
meeting  that  same  night  between  twelve  and  one,  at  a  house 
in  the  Faubourg  Saint- Jacques,  near  the  hospital  of  the  Val- 
de-Grace.  The  letter  told  me  how  to  proceed.  There  being 
no  concierge  in  the  house,  I  was  to  provide  myself  with  a 
'  dark  lantern,'  and  to  go  up  four  flights  of  stairs,  where  I 
should  find  a  door  with  a  cross  chalked  upon  it.  It  would 
be  opened  by  my  giving  a  particular  knock.  My  previous 
danger  notwithstanding,  I  had  not  the  least  suspicion  of  this 
being  a  trap.  I  did  not  for  one  moment  connect  the  letter 
with  the  other  event,  the  recollection  of  which,  strange  as  it 
may  seem  to  you,  did  not  obtrude  itself  at  all  then.  But 
there  was  another  reason  for  the  absence  of  caution  on  my  part. 
In  one  of  its  corners  the  letter  bore  a  sign,  not  exactly  that 
of  a  secret  society,  but  agreed  upon  among  certain  patriots. 


328  *    AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"  In  short,  a  little  before  twelve  o'clock  that  night,  I  went 
to  the  place  appointed.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the 
house,  and  reached  the  fourth  story  without  meeting  a  soul. 
There  was  the  door,  with  the  cross  chalked  on  it.  I  knocked 
once,  twice,  without  receiving  an  answer.  Still,  the  thought 
of  evil  never  entered  my  head.  I  began  to  think  that  I,  had 
been  the  victim  of  a  hoax  of  some  youngsters  of  the  Ecole 
des  Beaux- Arts,  most  of  whom  were  aware  of  my  political 
opinions.  I  was  just  turning  round  to  go  down  again,  when 
a  door  by  the  side  of  that  indicated  was  slowly  opened,  and  a 
young  girl  with  a  lighted  candle  appeared  on  the  threshold. 
Though  both  the  candle  and  my  lantern  did  not  shed  much 
light,  I  perceived  that,  at  the  sight  of  me,  she  turned  very  pale, 
but,  until  she  spoke,  I  failed  to  recognize  her.  Then  I  saw  it 
was  Clementine,  my  model.  She  scarcely  gave  me  time  to 
speak.  '  It  is  you,  M.  David,'  she  said,  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
fear  and  emotion.  '  You,'  she  repeated.  '  For  Heaven's  sake, 
go  ! — go  as  quickly  as  you  can !  If  you  stay  another  moment, 
you  will  be  a  corpse ;  for  God's  sake,  go  !  And  let  me  beg  of 
you  not  to  breathe  a  word  of  this  to  any  one ;  if  you  do,  my 
mother  and  I  will  pay  for  this  with  our  lives.  For  God's 
sake,  go.  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  the  person  expected. 
Go— go ! ' 

"  I  do  not  think  I  answered  a  single  word.  I  felt  instinct- 
ively that  this  was  no  hoax,  as  I  had  imagined,  but  terrible 
reality.  I  went  downstairs  as  fast  as  I  could,  but  it  was  not 
until  I  got  into  the  street  that  a  connection  between  the  two 
events  presented  itself  to  me.  Then  I  decided  to  wait  and 
watch.  I  hid  myself  in  the  doorway  of  a  house  a  few  steps 
away.  Scarcely  ten  minutes  had  elapsed  when  half  a  dozen 
individuals  arrived,  one  by  one,  and  disappeared  into  the 
house  that  sheltered  Clementine  and  her  mother.  One  of 
them,  I  feel  sure,  was  the  man  whom  I  suspected  of  having 
attempted  my  life  before.  A  few  years  more  went  by,  dur- 
ing which  I  often  thought  of  my  former  model ;  and  then, 
one  day,  I  felt  I  would  like  to  see  her  again.  In  plain  day- 
light this  time,  I  repaired  to  the  house  of  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Jacques,  clambered  up  the  stairs,  and  knocked  at  the  door  I 
had  such  good  cause  to  remember.  The  door  was  opened  by 
a  workman,  and  a  rapid  glance  at  the  inside  of  the  room 
showed  me  that  he  was  a  lastmaker.  '  Mademoiselle  Clemen- 
tine ? '  I  asked.  The  man  stared  at  me,  and  said,  *  No  such 
person  lives  here.'    I  made  inquiries  on  aU  the  lower  floors — 


HER  DOWNWARD  CAREER  329 

nobody  had  ever  heard  of  her.  Clementine  had  disappeared. 
I  never  saw  her  again  nntil  a  few  days  ago,  when  I  walked  by 
your  side  behind  the  body  of  Cortot.  I  should  not  have  rec- 
ognized her  but  for  the  bronze  Christ  she  carried  under  her 
arm,  and  which  attracted  my  notice.  If  what  I  surmise  be 
correct,  she  must  have  reached  the  last  stage  of  misery ;  for  I 
feel  convinced  that  nothing  but  absolute  want  would  make 
her  part  Avith  it.  I  have,  however,  failed  to  trace  it  in  any  of 
the  bric-a-brac  shops  on  the  quays,  and  I  believe  that  I  have 
pretty  Avell  inquired  at  every  one ;  so  I  must  fain  be  content 
until  fate  throws  her  again  across  my  path." 

So  far  the  story  as  told  by  the  great  sculptor  himself. 
During  the  next  eight  years,  in  fact  up  to  the  Coup  d'Etat, 
I  met  him  frequently,  and,  curiously  enough,  rarely  failed  to 
inquire  whether  in  his  mauy  wanderings  through  Paris  he 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  former  model.  I  felt  unaccount- 
ably interested  in  the  fate  of  that  woman  whom  I  had  never 
seen,  and,  if  we  had  been  able  to  find  her,  would  have  en- 
deavoured to  find  a  decent  home  for  her.  But  for  about 
three  years  my  inquiries  always  met  with  the  same  answer. 
Then,  one  evening  in  the  latter  end  of  '46  or  beginning  of 
'47,  David  told  me  that  he  had  met  her  on  the  outer  boule- 
vards, arm  in  arm  with  one  of  those  terrible  nondescripts  of 
which  one  is  often  compelled  to  speak  again  and  again,  and 
which,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  are  nowhere  to  be  found  as  a 
class  except  in  the  French  metropolis  and  great  provincial 
centres.  Clementine  evidently  wished  to  avoid  David.  A 
little  while  after,  he  met  her  again,  and  this  time  followed 
her,  but,  though  by  no  means  a  coward,  lacked  the  courage 
to  enter  the  hovel  into  which  she  had  disappeared  with  her 
companion.  The  last  time  he  saw  her  was  in  the  middle  of 
'47,  in  the  Rue  des  Boucheries.  She  seemed  to  have  returned 
to  her  old  quarters,  and  she  was  by  herself.  Until  she  spoke, 
David  did  not  recognize  her.  Her  face  was  positively  seamed 
with  horrible  scars,  "wounds  inflicted  by  her  lovers" — Heav- 
en save  the  mark  !  She  asked  him  to  help  her,  and  he  did ; 
but  she  had  scarcely  gone  a  few  steps  when  she  was  arrested 
and  taken  to  the  prison  of  I'Abbaye  de  St.  Germain,  hard  by, 
whither  David  followed  to  intercede  for  her.  He  was  told  to 
come  back  next  morning,  and  that  same  evening  communi- 
cated the  affair  to  me.  I  decided  there  and  then  to  accom- 
pany him,  in  order  to  carry  out  my  plan  of  redeeming  that 
human  soul  if  possible.    I  failed,  though  through  no  fault  of 


330  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

my  own,  but  my  attempt  brought  me  in  contact  with  a  per- 
sonage scarcely  less  interesting  in  his  own  way  than  David, 
namely,  M.  Canler,  the  future  head  of  the  Paris  detective 
farce.  It  was  through  him  that  I  got  an  insight  into  some  of 
the  most  revolting  features  of  criminal  life  in  Paris.  But, 
before  dealing  with  that  subject,  I  wish  to  devote  a  few  more 
lines  to  David,  whom  I  had  the  honour  of  numbering  among 
my  friends  till  the  day  of  his  death,  albeit  that  the  last  few 
years  of  his  life  were  spent  away  from  France,  whither  he  re- 
turned, however,  to  die  in  '56.  After  the  Coup  d'Etat  he 
was  exiled  by  Louis- Xapoleon — ostensibly,  for  his  political 
opinions ;  in  reality,  because  he  had  refused  to  finish  the 
monument  for  Queen  Hortense's  tomb  after  her  son's  fiasco 
at  Boulogne. 

Writing  about  France  and  Frenchmen,  I  feel  somewhat 
reluctant  to  make  too  lavish  a  use  of  the  words  "  patriot " 
and  "  patriotism,"  especially  with  the  patriots  and  the  patri- 
otism of  the  Third  Eepublic  around  me.  But  I  have  no 
hesitation  in  saying  that,  to  David  d' Angers,  these  words 
meant  something  almost  sacred.  Sprung  from  exceedingly 
poor  parents,  he  had  amassed,  by  honest  work,  a  fortune 
which,  to  men  born  in  a  higher  sphere  and  with  far  more  ex- 
pensive tastes,  might  seem  sufficient.  Seeing  that  he  was 
frugality  and  simplicity  personified,  that  his  income  was 
mainly  spent  in  alleviating  distress,  and  that  his  daughter 
was  even  more  simple-minded  than  her  father,  he  had  noth- 
ing to  gain  by  the  advent  of  a  republic,  nothing  to  lose  by 
the  establishment  of  a  monarchy  or  empire,  and  his  ardent 
championship  of  republican  institutions — such  as  he  con- 
ceived them — was  prompted  solely  by  his  noble  nature.  That 
Louis-Napoleon  should  have  exiled  such  a  man  was  an  error 
his  warmest  friends  could  scarcely  forgive  him.  But  David 
never  complained,  any  more  than  he  ever  uttered  a  harsh 
word  against  the  memory  of  Flaxman,  who,  in  his  youth, 
had  shut  his  doors  against  him  under  the  impression  that  he 
was  a  relation  of  Louis  David  who  had  voted  for  the  death 
of  Louis  XVI.  On  the  contrary,  the  memory  of  the  great 
English  sculptor  was  held  in  deep  reverence. 

And  so  David  departed,  a  wanderer  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  with  his  daughter.  He  first  endeavoured  to  settle  in 
Brussels,  but  the  irresistible  desire  to  behold  once  more  what 
he  himself  considered  his  greatest  work,  the  monument  to 
Marcos  Botzaris,  attracted  him  to  Greece.    A  friend,  to  whom 


DAVID  IN  GREECE.  33I 

he  communicated  his  intention,  wrote  to  him,  "  Do  not  go." 
He  gave  him  no  further  reason ;  he  even  withheld  from  him 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  at  Missolonghi  a  twelvemontli  pre- 
viously. The  explanation  of  this  reticence  may  be  gathered 
from  David's  letter  to  him  a  few  days  after  his,  David's,  re- 
turn.    I  have  been  allowed  to  copy  it,  and  give  it  verbatim. 

"  Long  before  our  vessel  anchored  near  the  spot  where 
Byron  died,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  tumulus  erected  at  the 
foot  of  the  bastion,  in  honour  of  Botzaris  and  his  fellow- 
heroes.  It  made  a  small  dark  spot  on  the  horizon,  and  above 
it  was  a  speck,  much  smaller  and  perfectly  white.  I  knew 
instinctively  that  this  was  my  statue  of  the  '  young  Greek 
girl,'  and  I  watched  and  watched  with  bated  breath,  fancying 
as  the  ship  sped  along  that  the  speck  moved.  Of  course,  it 
was  only  my  imagination,  the  presumptuous  thought  that 
the  marble  effigy  Avould  start  into  life  at  the  approach  of  its 
creator. 

"Alas,  would  I  had  proceeded  no  further — that  I  had 
been  satisfied  with  the  mirage  instead  of  pushing  on  in  hot 
haste  towards  the  reality !  For  the  reality  was  heart-rend- 
ing, so  heart-rending  that  I  wept  like  a  child,  and  clenched 
my  fists  like  a  giant  in  despair.  The  right  hand  of  the  statue, 
the  index  finger  of  which  pointed  to  the  name,  had  been 
broken ;  the  ears  had  disappeared,  one  of  the  feet  was  broken 
to  atoms,  and  the  face  slashed  with  knives.  It  was  like  the 
face  of  the  girl  that  had  sat  for  me,  when  I  last  saw  it,  under 
the  circumstances  which,  you  may  remember,  I  told  you. 
The  whole  was  riddled  with  bullets,  and  some  tourists,  Brit- 
ish ones  probably,  had  cut  their  names  on  the  back  of  the 
child.  And  so  ends  the  most  glorious  chapter  of  my  artist's 
career — the  model  itself  fallen  beyond  redemption,  the  work 
mutilated  beyond  repair,  the  author  of  it  in  exile. 

"  I  felt  powerless  to  repair  the  mischief.  I  did  not  stay 
long.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  complain.  I  knew  that  Byron 
had  been  buried  near  the  fortifications  at  Missolonghi,  but 
all  my  efforts  to  find  the  spot  have  proved  useless.*  The 
house  where  he  breathed  his  last  had  been  pulled  down. 
Why  should  the  Greeks  have  more  reverence  for  Botzaris  or 
Mavrocordato  than  they  had  for  the  poet  ?  and  if  these  three 
are  so  little  to  them,  what  must  I  be,  Avliose  name  they  proba- 

*  Of  course,  David  meant  the  spot  where  the  remains  had  been  interred  at 
first. — Editob. 


332  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

bly  never  heard  ?    Still,  as  I  stood  at  the  stem  of  the  depart- 
ing vessel,  I  felt  heart-broken.     I  have  no  illusions  left." 

I  firmly  believe  that  the  injury  done  to  the  statue  hastened 
David's  death.  His  work  has  since  been  restored  by  M.  Ar- 
mand  Toussaint,  his  favourite  pupil,  who  gave  his  promise  to 
that  effect  a  few  days  before  the  great  sculptor  breathed  his 
last.  The  monument  was,  however,  not  brought  to  Paris 
until  1861,  and  when  M.  Toussaint  had  finished  his  task,  he 
invited  the  press  and  the  friends  of  his  famous  master  to 
judge  of  the  results.  It  was  at  the  door  of  his  studio  that  I 
saw  the  woman,  whose  adventures  I  have  told  in  the  preced- 
ing notes,  for  the  first  time.  A  fortnight  later,  she  died  at 
the  hospital  of  La  Charite,  at  peace,  I  trust,  with  her  Maker. 
"  Fate,  Providence,  call  it  what  you  will,"  as  David  himself 
would  have  said,  had  brought  me  to  the  spot  just  in  time  to 
alleviate  the  last  sufferings  of  one  who,  though  not  alto- 
gether irresponsible  for  her  own  errors,  was  to  a  still  greater 
extent  the  victim  of  a  system  so  iniquitous  as  to  make  the 
least  serious-minded — provided  he  be  endowed  with  the  faint- 
est spark  of  humanity — shudder.  I  allude  to  the  system 
pursued  by  the  Paris  detective  force  in  their  hunt  after 
criminals — a  system  not  altogether  abandoned  yet,  and  the 
successful  carrying  out  of  which  is  paid  for  by  the  excrucia- 
ting tortures  inflicted  upon  defenceless  though  fallen  women 
— but  women  still — by  the  soutejieur.  I  refrain  from  Angli- 
cizing the  word ;  it  will  suggest  itself  after  the  perusal  of 
the  following  facts,  albeit  that,  fortunately  with  us,  the  creat- 
ure itself  does  not  exist  as  a  class,  and,  what  is  worse,  as  a 
class  recognized  by  those  whose  first  and  foremost  duty  it 
should  be  to  destroy  him  root  and  branch. 


The  morning  after  Clementine's  arrest,  David  and  I  re- 
paired to  the  prison  of  I'Abbaye  Saint-German.  When  the 
sculptor  sent  in  his  name,  the  governor  himself  came  out  to  re- 
ceive us.  But  the  woman  was  gone ;  she  had  been  transferred, 
the  previous  night,  to  the  depot  of  the  prefecture  de  police, 
"  where,"  he  said,  "  if  you  make  haste,  you  will  still  find 
her."  He  gave  us  a  letter  of  introduction  for  the  official 
charged  to  deal  with  refractory  "  filles  soumises,"  or  offend- 
ing insoumises,  because,  then  as  now,  these  unfortunates 
were  not  tried  by  an  ordinary  police  magistrate  in  open 
court,  but  summarily  punished  by  said  official,  the  sentences 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  THE  PARIS  POLICE.  S33 

being  subject,  however,  to  revision  or  confirmation  by  his 
superior,  the  chief  of  the  municipal  police.  Nay,  the  de- 
cisions were  not  even  communicated  to  these  women  until 
they  were  safely  lodged  in  vSaint-Lazare,  lest  there  should  be 
a  disturbance ;  for  they  were  not  examined  one  by  one ;  and, 
as  may  be  imagined,  the  contagion  of  revolt  spread  easily 
among  those  hysterical  and  benighted  creatures. 

When  we  reached  the  prefecture  de  police  the  judging 
was  over,  but,  on  our  sending  in  our  letter,  we  were  admitted 
at  once  to  the  official's  room.  After  David's  description,  he 
remembered  the  woman,  and  told  us  at  once  that  she  had 
not  been  sent  to  Saint-Lazare,  but  liberated.  Some  one  had 
interceded  for  her — no  less  a  personage  than  Canler,  who, 
though  at  the  time  but  a  superintendent,  was  already  fast 
springing  into  notice  as  a  detective  of  no  mean  skill.  "  What 
had  he  done  with  her  ? "  was  David's  question.  "  I  could 
not  tell  you,"  was  the  courteous  reply ;  "  but  I  will  give  you 
his  address,  and  he  will  no  doubt  give  you  all  the  information 
in  his  power  and  consistent  with  his  duty."  With  this  we 
were  bowed  out  of  the  room. 

We  did  not  succeed  in  seeing  Canler  until  two  days  after- 
wards, or,  rather,  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day ;  for,  at 
that  period,  he  was  entrusted  with  the  surveillance  of  the 
theatres  on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple.  I  may  have  occasion 
to  speak  of  him  again,  so  I  need  not  give  his  portrait  here. 
He  was  about  fifty,  and,  unlike  one  of  his  successors,  M. 
Claude,  the  type  of  the  old  soldier.  Of  his  honesty  there 
never  was,  there  could  have  never  been,  a  doubt,  nor  was  his 
intelligence  ever  questioned.  And  yet,  this  very  honest,  in- 
telligent man,  in  his  all-absorbing  pursuit,  the  detection  and 
chasing  of  criminals,  was  sufficiently  dishonest  and  unintelli- 
gent to  foster,  if  not  to  inaugurate,  a  system  subversive  of  all 
morality. 

David's  name  was  a  passport  everywhere,  and,  no  sooner 
had  it  been  sent  in,  than  Canler  came  out  to  him.  The 
sculptor  stated  his  business,  and  the  police  officer  made  a 
wry  face.  "  I  am  afraid,  M.  David,  I  cannot  help  you  in  this 
instance.  To  speak  plainly,  I  have  restored  her  to  her  sou- 
teneur." We  both  opened  our  eyes  very  wide.  "  Yes,"  came 
the  remark,  "  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  I  can  sum 
up  all  your  objections  before  you  utter  them.  But  I  could 
not  help  myself ;  the  fellow  rendered  me  a  service,  and  this 
was  the  price  of  it.     Without  his  aid,  one  of  the  most  des- 


334         .  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

perate  burglars  in  Paris  would  still  be  at  large.  As  it  is,  I 
have  got  him  safe  under  lock  and  key.  Very  shocking,  no 
doubt ;  mais,  a  la  guerre  comme  a  la  guerre."  Then,  seeing 
that  we  did  not  answer,  he  continued  :  "  As  a  rule,  I  do  not 
explain  my  tactics  to  everybody ;  but  you,  M.  David,  are  not 
everybody,  and,  if  you  like  to  meet  me  when  the  theatre  is 
over,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  a  chat  with  you." 

At  half-past  twelve  that  night  we  were  seated  at  a  res- 
taurant near  the  Porte  Saint-Martin,  and,  after  a  few  prelimi- 
nary remarks,  Canler  explained. 

"However  great  an  artist  you  may  be,  M.  David,  you  could 
not  produce  a  statue  without  the  outlay  for  the  marble,  or  for 
the  casting  of  it  in  bronze.  You,  moreover,  want  to  pay 
your  praticien,  who  does  the  rough  work  for  you.  Our 
praticiens  are  the  informers,  and  they  want  to  be  paid  like 
the  most  honest  workmen.  The  detection  of  crime  means,  no 
doubt,  intelligence,  but  it  means  also  money.  Now,  money 
is  the  very  thing  I  have  not  got,  and  yet,  when  I  accepted 
the  functions  I  am  at  present  fulfilling,  I  gave  my  promise  to 
M.  Delessert  not  to  neglect  the  detective  part  of  the  business. 
I  wish  to  keep  my  word,  first  of  all,  because  I  pledged  it ; 
secondly,  because  detection  of  crime  is  food  and  drink  to 
me ;  thirdly,  because  I  hope  to  be  the  head  of  the  Paris  de- 
tective force  one  day.  The  Government  allows  a  ridiculously 
small  sum  every  year  for  distribution  among  informers,  and 
rewards  among  their  own  agents ;  it  is  something  over  thirty 
thousand  francs,  but  not  a  sou  of  which  ever  reached  my 
hands  when  I  accepted  my  present  appointment,  and  scarcely 
a  sou  of  which  reaches  me  now.  I  was,  therefore,  obliged  to 
look  out  for  auxiliaries,  sufficiently  disinterested  to  assist  me 
gratuitously,  but,  knowing  that  absolute  disinterestedness  is 
very  rare  indeed,  I  looked  for  my  collaborateurs  among  the 
very  ones  I  was  charged  to  watch,  but  who,  in  exchange  foi 
my  protection  in  the  event  of  their  offending,  were  ready  to 
peach  upon  their  companions  in  crime  and  in  vice.  I  need 
not  trouble  you  by  enumerating  the  various  categories  of  my 
allies,  but  the  souteneur,  the  most  abject  of  them  all,  is,  per- 
haps, the  most  valuable. 

"  He  is  too  lazy  to  work,  and,  as  a  rule,  has  not  got  the 
pluck  of  a  mouse,  consequently  he  rarely  resorts  to  crime, 
requiring  the  smallest  amount  of  energy  or  daring.  He  fur- 
thermore loves  his  Paris,  where,  according  to  his  own  lights, 
he  enjoys  himself  and  lives  upon  the  fat  of  the  land;  all 


A  GLIMPSE  AT  THE  PARIS  POLICE.  335 

these  reasons  make  him  careful  not  to  commit  himself,  albeit 
that  at  every  minute  of  the  day  he  comes  in  contact  with 
everything  that  is  vile.  But  he  gets  hold  of  their  secrets, 
though  the  word  is  almost  a  misnomer,  seeing  that  few  of 
these  desperadoes  can  hold  their  tongue  about  their  own  busi- 
ness, knowing  all  the  while,  as  they  must  do,  that  their  want 
of  reticence  virtually  puts  their  heads  into  the  halter.  But 
if  they  have  done  '  a  good  stroke  of  business,'  even  if  they  do 
not  brag  about  it  in  so  many  words,  they  must  show  their 
success  by  their  sudden  show  of  finery,  by  their  treating  of 
everybody  all  round,  etc.  The  souteneur  is,  as  it  were,  jeal- 
ous of  all  this ;  for  though  he  lives  in  comparative  comfort 
from  what  his  mistress  gives  him,  he  rarely  makes' a  big  haul. 
His  mistress  gone,  the  pot  ceases  to  boil ;  in  fact,  he  calls  her 
his  marmite.  In  a  few  days  he  is  on  his  beams'  ends,  unless 
he  has  one  in  every  different  quarter,  which  is  not  often  the 
case,  though  it  happens  now  and  then.  But,  at  any  rate, 
the  incarceration  of  one  of  them  makes  a  difference,  and, 
under  the  circumstance,  he  repairs,  as  far  as  he  dares,  to  the 
prefecture,  and  obtains  her  liberation  in  exchange  for  the 
address  of  a  burglar  or  even  a  murderer  who  is  wanted.  I 
have  known  one  who  had  perfected  his  system  of  obtaining 
information  to  siich  a  degree  as  to  be  able  to  sell  his  secrets 
to  his  fellow-souteneurs  when  they  had  none  of  their  own 
wherewith  to  propitiate  the  detectives.  He  has  had  as  much 
as  three  or  four  hundred  francs  for  one  revelation  of  that 
kind,  which  means  twenty  or  thirty  times  the  sum  the  police 
would  have  awarded  him.  Of  course,  three  or  four  hundred 
francs  is  a  big  sum  for  the  souteneur  to  shell  out ;  but,  when 
the  marmite  is  a  good  one,  he  sooner  does  that  than  be  de- 
prived of  his  revenues  for  six  months  or  so.  I  have  diverted 
some  of  those  secrets  into  my  own  channel,  and  Clementine's 
souteneur  is  one  of  my  clients ;  that  is  why  I  gave  her  up. 
Very  shocking,  gentlemen,  but  a  la  guerre  comme  a  la 
guerre." 

M.  Canler  furthermore  counselled  us  to  leave  Clementine 
alone.  He  positively  refused  to  give  us  any  information  as 
to  her  whereabouts ;  that  is  why  I  did  not  meet  with  her  until 
five  years  after  David's  death,  too  late  to  be  of  any  use  to  her 
in  this  world. 


336  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Queen  Victoria  in  Paris — The  beginning  of  the  era  of  middle-clasa  excursions — 
English  visitors  before  that — The  British  tourist  of  1855 — The  real  revenge 
of  Waterloo — The  Englishman's  French  and  the  Frenchman's  English — 
The  opening  of  the  Exhibition — The  lord  mayor  and  aldermen  in  Paris — 
The  King  of  Portugal — All  these  considered  so  much  "  small  fry  " — Napo- 
leon III.  goes  to  Boulogne  to  welcome  the  Queen — The  royal  yacht  is  de- 
layed— The  French  hotel  proprietor  the  greatest  artist  in  fleecing— The 
Italian,  the  Swiss,  the  German,  mere  bunglers  in  comparison — Napoleon 
III.  before  the  arrival  of  the  Queen^Pondering  the  past — Arrival  of  the 
Queen — The  Queen  lands,  followed  by  Prince  Albert  and  the  royal  chil- 
dren— The  Emperor  rides  by  the  side  of  her  carriage — Comments  of  the 
population — An  old  salt  on  the  situation — An  old  soldier's  retort — The 
general  feeling — Anival  in  Paris — The  Parisians'  reception  of  the  Queen — 
A  description  of  the  route — The  apartments  of  the  Queen  at  St.  Cloud — 
How  the  Queen  spent  Sunday — Visits  the  art  section  of  the  Exliibition  on 
Monday — Ingres  and  Horace  Vemet  presented  to  her — Frenchmen's  igno- 
rance of  English  art  in  those  days — English  and  French  art  critics—The 
Queen  takes  a  carriage  drive  through  Paris — Not  a  single  cry  of  "  Vive 
I'Angleterre  ! "  a  great  many  of  "  Vive  la  Keine  " — England  making  a  cats- 
paw  of  France — Keception  at  the  Elysee-Bourbon — "  Lea  Demoiselles  de 
Saint-Cyr"  at  St.  Cloud — Alexandre  Dumas  would  have  liked  to  see  the 
Queen — Visit  to  Versailles — State-performances  at  the  Opera — Ball  at  the 
Hotel  de  Ville — The  Queen's  dancing — Canrobert  on  "  the  Queen's  dancing 
and  her  soldiers'  fighting  " — Another  visit  to  the  Exhibition — B^ranger 
misses  seeing  the  Queen — "  I  am  not  going  to  see  the  Queen,  but  the 
woman  " — A  review  in  the  Champ-de-Mars — A  visit  to  Napoleon's  tomb — 
Jerome's  absence  on  the  plea  of  illness — Marshal  Vaillant's  reply  to  the 
Emperor  when  the  latter  invites  him  to  take  Jerome's  place— His  comments 
on  the  receptions  given  by  the  Emperor  to  foreign  sovereigns — Fetea  at 
Versailles — Homeward. 

Magnificent  as  were  the  quasi-private  entertainments 
at  Compiegne,  and  the  more  public  ones  at  the  Tuileries, 
they  were  as  nothing  to  the  series  of  fetes  on  the  occasion  of 
Queen  Victoria's  visit  to  Paris,  in  1855.  For  nearly  three 
months  before,  the  capital  had  assumed  the  aspect  of  a  fair. 
The  Exposition  Universelle  of  '55  virtually  inaugurated  the 
era  of  "  middle-class  excursions,"  which  since  then  have  as- 
sumed such  colossal  proportions,  especially  with  regard  to 
the  English.  Previous  to  this  the  development  of  railways 
had  naturally  brought  many  of  our  countrymen  to  Paris, 
but  they  were  of  a  different  class  from  those  who  now  invad- 


QUEEN  VICTORIA  IN  PARIS.  337 

ed  the  French  metropolis.  They  were  either  men  of  busi- 
ness bent  on  business,  though  not  averse  to  enjoying  them- 
selves in  the  intervals,  or  else  belonging  or  pretending  to 
belong  to  "  the  upper  ten,"  and  travelling  more  or  less  en 
grand  seigyieurs.  They  came  singly,  and  left  their  cards  at 
the  Embassy,  etc.  The  new  visitors  came  in  groups,  though 
not  necessarily  acquainted  or  travelling  with  one  another ; 
they  knew  nothing  of  the  Hotel  Meurice  and  the  Hotel  Bris- 
tol or  their  traditions ;  they  crowded  the  Palais-Eoyal  and  its 
cheap  restaurants,  and  had,  so  to  speak,  no  French  at  their 
command.  Notwithstanding  the  exclamation  of  the  French- 
man when  he  saw  the  statue  of  Wellington  opposite  Apsley 
House,  it  was  then,  and  then  only,  that  the  revanche  of 
Waterloo  began.  It  has  lasted  ever  since.  It  was  '55  that 
marked  the  appearance  in  the  shop-windows  of  small  cards 
bearing  the  words,  "  English  spoken  here."  Hitherto  the 
English  visitor  to  Paris  was  commonly  supposed  to  have  had 
a  French  tutor  or  governess,  and  though  the  French  he  or 
she  did  speak  was  somewhat  trying  to  the  ear,  it  was  heaven- 
ly music  compared  to  the  English  the  Parisian  shopkeeper 
now  held  it  incumbent  upon  himself  to  "  trot  out "  for  the 
benefit  of  his  customers,  or  that  of  the  guide  or  valet  de  place, 
legions  of  whom  infested  the  streets. 

The  Exhibition  was  opened  on  the  15th  of  May,  but 
Queen  Victoria  was  not  expected  until  the  middle  of  August. 
Meanwhile,  the  Parisians  were  treated  to  a  sight  of  the  Lord 
Mayor — Sir  F.  Moon,  I  believe — and  the  aldermen,  who 
came  in  the  beginning  of  June,  and  who  were  magnificently 
entertained  by  the  Paris  municipality,  a  deputation  of  which 
went  as  far  as  Boulogne  to  welcome  them.  Still,  it  was  very 
evident  that  neither  their  visit  nor  that  of  the  King  of  Portu- 
gal and  his  brother  was  to  tax  the  ingenuity  of  upholsterers, 
carpenters,  and  caterers,  or  of  the  Parisians  themselves  in 
the  matter  of  decoration;  the  watchword  had  apparently 
been  given  from  the  highest  quarters  to  reserve  their  greatest 
efforts  for  what  Napoleon  up  till  then  considered  "  the  most 
glorious  event  of  his  reign."  The  Emperor,  though  he  had 
gone  to  join  the  Empress,  who  was  by  this  time  known  to  be 
enceinte,  at  Eaux-Bonnes  and  Biarritz,  returned  to  Paris  at 
the  end  of  July,  and  for  more  than  a  fortnight  occupied 
himself  personally  and  incessantly  with  the  smallest  details 
of  the  Queen's  visit,  the  whole  of  the  programme  of  which 
was  settled  by  him. 

15 


388  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

I  was  one  of  the  few  privileged  persons  who  travelled 
down  to  Boulogne  with  Louis-Napoleon,  on  Friday,  the  17th 
of  August,  1855.  When  we  got  to  our  destination,  the  yacht 
was  not  in  sight,  but  we  were  already  informed  that,  owing  to 
its  heavy  tonnage,  it  would  Bot  be  able  to  enter  the  harbour 
except  at  high  tide,  which  would  not  be  until  1  p.  m.,  on  Sat- 
urday. Shortly  after  that  hour  the  vessel,  accompanied  by 
its  flotilla,  appeared  in  the  offing ;  but  the  Queen  remained 
on  board,  and  we  had  to  enjoy  ourselves  as  best  we  could, 
which  was  not  difficult,  seeing  that  the  whole  of  the  town 
was  absolutely  in  the  streets,  and  that  the  latter  were  decid- 
edly preferable  to  the  stuffy  attics  at  the  hotels,  for  which 
we  were  charged  the  moderate  sum  of  forty  francs  each. 
Uneventful  as  my  life  has  been,  it  is  only  worth  recording 
by  reason  of  the  celebrity  of  the  persons  with  whom  I  have 
come  in  contact ;  nevertheless,  I  have  travelled  a  good  deal, 
and  been  present  at  a  great  many  festive  gatherings  both  in 
\England  and  on  the  Continent.  Commend  me  to  the  French 
hotel-proprietor  for  fleecing  you  in  cold  blood.  The  Swiss 
and  the  Italians,  no  mean  masters  of  the  art,  are  not  in  it 
with  him ;  and  as  for  the  Germans,  they  are  mere  'prentices 
compared  with  him.  The  Italian  despoils  you,  like  his  coun- 
tryman of  operatic  fame,  Fra-Diavolo ;  the  Swiss,  like  an 
English  highwayman  of  the  good  old  sort ;  the  German,  like 
a  beggar  who  picks  your  pocket  while  you  are  looking  in 
your  purse  for  a  coin  to  give  him  ;  the  Frenchman,  like  the 
money-lender  who  is  "  not  working  for  himself,  but  for  a 
hard-hearted,  relentless  principal." 

On  the  Saturday,  the  Emperor  was  astir  betimes,  and 
went  to  the  camp  occupied  by  the  troops  under  the  command 
of  Marshal  Baraguey-d'Hilliers.  Louis- Napoleon's  counte- 
nance was  at  all  times  difficult  to  read ;  I  repeat,  his  eyes, 
like  those  of  others,  may  have  been  "  the  windows  of  his 
soul,"  but  their  blinds  were  down  most  of  the  time.  It  was 
only  at  rare  intervals  that  the  impenetrable  features  were 
lighted  up  by  a  gleam  from  within,  that  the  head,  which 
generally  inclined  to  the  right,  became  erect.  On  that  morn- 
ing, the  face  was  even  a  greater  blank  than  usual.  And  yet 
that  day,  even  to  the  fatalist  he  was,  must  have  seemed  a 
wonderful  one ;  for  the  blind  goddess  of  fortune,  the  "  lucky 
star "  in  which  he  trusted,  had  never  rewarded  a  mortal  as 
she  had  rewarded  him.  A  few  years  previously,  during  one 
of  his  presidential  journeys,  he  had  been  hailed  with  enthu- 


LOUIS-NAPOLfeON  A  FATALIST.  339 

siasm  at  Strasburg,  the  city  in  which  the  scene  of  one  of  his 
bitterest  fiascos  had  been  laid.  The  contrast  between  those 
two  days  was  startling  indeed  :  on  the  one,  he  was  hurried 
into  a  post-chaise  as  a  prisoner  to  be  taken  to  Paris,  with  an 
almost  certain  terrible  fate  overhanging  him ;  on  the  other, 
he  was  greeted  as  the  saviour  of  France,  the  Imperial  Crown 
was  within  his  grasp.  But,  startling  as  was  this  contrast,  it 
could  but  have  been  mild  compared  to  that  which  must  have 
presented  itself  to  his  mind  that  autumn  morning  at  Bou- 
logne, when,  a  few  hours  later,  the  legions — his  legions — 
took  up  their  positions  from  Wimereux  on  the  right  to  Por- 
sel  on  the  left,  to  do  homage  to  the  sovereign  of  a  country 
which  had  been  the  most  irreconcilable  foe  of  the  founder  of 
his  house ;  on  the  very  heights  at  the  foot  of  which  he  him- 
self had  failed  to  rouse  the  French  to  enthusiasm ;  on  the 
very  spot  where  he  had  become  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
world  by  his  performance  with  that  unfortunate  tame  eagle.. 

And  yet,  I  repeat,  not  a  gleam  of  pride  or  joy  lighted  up 
the  Sphinx-like  mask.  To  see  this  man  standing  there  un- 
moved amidst  the  highest  honours  the  world  had  to  bestow,  one 
could  not  help  thinking  of  Voltaire's  condemnation  of  fatal- 
ism as  the  guiding  principal  of  life  :  "  If  perchance  fatalism 
be  the  true  doctrine,  I  would  sooner  be  without  such  a  cruel 
truth." 

A  regiment  of  lancers  and  one  of  dragoons  lined  the  route 
from  the  landing-stage  to  the  railway  station,  for  in  those 
days  the  trains  did  not  stop  alongside  the  boats ;  while  on 
the  bridge  crossing  the  Liane,  three  hundred  sappers,  bearded 
like  the  Pard,  shouldering  their  axes,  wearing  their  white 
leathern  aprons,  stood  in  serried  ranks,  three  deep. 

The  Queen's  yacht  had  been  timed  to  enter  the  harbour 
at  one,  but  it  was  within  a  minute  or  so  of  two  before  it  was 
moored  amidst  the  salutes  from  the  forts.  The  Emperor, 
who  had  been  on  horseback  the  whole  of  the  morning — who, 
in  fact,  preferred  that  means  of  locomotion  on  all  important 
occasions,  as  it  showed  him  off  to  greater  advantage, — had 
been  standing  by  the  side  of  his  charger.  He  crossed  the 
gangway,  beautifully  upholstered  in  purple  velvet  and  carpet 
to  match,  at  once,  and,  after  having  kissed  her  hand,  offered  her 
his  arm  to  assist  her  in  landing,  Prince  Albert  and  the  royal 
children  coming  immediately  behind  the  Imperial  host  and 
his  principal  guest.  A  magnificent  roomy  barouche,  capable 
of  holding  six  persons  and  lined  with  white  satin,  but  only 


SiO  AN   ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

drawn  by  two  horses — such  horses !  for  in  that  respect  Napoleon 
had  spent  his  time  to  advantage  in  England, — stood  waiting 
to  convey  the  Royal  family.  The  Emperor  himself,  though, 
mounted  his  horse  once  more,  and  took  his  place  by  tiie 
right  of  the  carriage,  the  left  being  taken  by  Marshal  Bara- 
guey-d'Hilliers.  The  head  of  the  procession  started  amidst 
tremendous  cheers  from  the  crowd,  but  we  who  came  on  be- 
hind heard  some  curious  comments  upon  this  popular  mani- 
festation. Knowing  that  there  would  be  a  considerable 
delay  in  getting  the  train  off,  I  walked  instead  of  driving.  I 
was  accompanied  by  Lord ,  who  was  never  averse  to  hav- 
ing his  little  joke.  "  He  bien,  mon  ami,"  he  said  to  an  old 
weather-beaten  sailor,  who  was  short  of  his  left  leg — "  he  bien, 
mon  ami,  nous  voila  reconcilies." 

"  Oui,  oui,  je  t'en  fiche,"  was  the  answer  ;  "  mais  puisqu'il 
en  sont  k  se  faire  des  m'amours,  ils  devaient  bien  me  rendre 
ma  jambe  que  j'ai  perdue  dans  leurs  querelles." 

"  Imbecile,"  remarked  an  old  soldier-looking  man,  who, 
though  old,  was  evidently  younger  than  the  first  speaker,  and 
who  was  short  of  an  arm,  "  ta  jambe  ne  t'irait  pas  plus  que 
mon  bras ;  c'etait  ta  jambe  de  garpon." 

"  C'est  vrai,"  nodded  the  other  philosophically ;  "  tout 
de  meme,  c'est  drole  que  nous  nous  soyons  battus  comme  des 
chiens,"  pointing  across  the  Channel  in  the  direction  of  Eng- 
land, "pour  en  arriver  a  cela.  Si  le  vieux  (Napoleon  I.) 
revenait,  il  serait  rudement  colere."  And  I  may  say  at  once 
that,  notwithstanding  the  friendly  attitude  throughout  of  the 
rural  as  well  as  of  the  Parisian  populations,  that  was  the 
underlying  sentiment.  "  AVaterloo  est  arrange,  non  pas 
venge,"  said  a  Parisian  ;  "  il  parait  qu'il  y  a  des  accommode- 
ments  avec  les  rois,  aussi  bien  qu'avec  le  ciel." 

As  a  matter  of  course,  we  did  not  leave  Boulogne  much 
before  three — the  original  arrangement  had  been  for  half-past 
one, — and  when  we  reached  Paris  it  was  dark,  too  early  for 
the  illuminations  which  had  been  projected  along  the  line  of 
boulevards  from  the  recently  open  Boulevard  de  Strasbourg 
to  the  Madeleine,  not  so  much  as  a  feature  in  the  programme 
of  reception,  as  in  honour  of  the  Queen  generally.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  not  suflBcient  daylight  for  the  crowds 
to  distinguish  the  sovereign's  features,  and  a  corresponding 
disappointment  was  the  result.  The  lighted  carriage  lamps 
did  not  improve  matters  much.  But  the  Parisians — to  their 
credit  be  it  said — knowing  that  Queen  Victoria  had  expressed 


THE  QUEEN'S  RECEPTION  IN  PARIS.  34I 

her  wish  to  be  conveyed  to  St.  Cloud  in  an  open  carriage,  in- 
stead of  the  closed  State  one  used  on  such  occasions,  took 
note  of  the  intention,  and  acknowledged  it  with  ringing  cheers. 
Victor  Hugo  has  said  that  the  Parisian  loves  to  show  his 
teeth — he  must  either  be  laughing  or  growling ;  and  at  the 
best  of  times  it  is  an  ungrateful  task  to  analyse  too  thoroughly 
such  manifestations  of  enthusiasm.  There  are  always  as 
many  reasons  why  nations  should  hate  as  love  each  other. 
The  sentiment,  as  expressed  by  the  sailor  and  soldier  alluded 
to  just  now,  did  exist — of  that  I  feel  sure ;  but  amidst 
the  truly  fairy  spectacle  then  presented  to  the  masses  that 
crowded  the  streets,  it  may  have  been  forgotten  for  the 
moment. 

For,  in  spite  of  the  gathering  darkness,  the  scene  was 
almost  unique.  I  have  only  seen  another  one  like  it,  namely, 
when  the  troops  returned  from  the  Franco-Austrian  War; 
and  people  much  older  than  I  declared  that  the  next  best 
one  was  that  on  the  occasion  of  the  return  of  the  Bourbons 
in  1814. 

Though  the  new  northern  station,  erected  on  the  site  of 
the  old,  had  been  virtually  finished  for  more  than  a  twelve- 
month, the  approaches  to  it  were,  if  not  altogether  magnifi- 
cent projects,  little  more  than  magnificent  mazes,  stone  and 
mortar  Phcenixes,  in  the  act  of  rising,  not  risen,  from  Brob- 
dignagian  dust-heaps,  and  altogether  unfit  for  any  kind  of 
spectacular  procession.  Consequently,  it  had  been  decided  to 
connect  the  northern  with  the  eastern  line  immediately  after 
entering  the  fortifications.  The  Strasbourg  Station  did  not 
labour  under  the  same  disadvantages  ;  the  boulevard  of  that 
name  stretched  uninterruptedly  as  far  as  the  Boulevard  St. 
Denis,  although,  as  yet,  there  were  few  houses  on  it.  I  have 
seen  a  good  many  displays  of  bunting  in  my  time ;  I  have 
seen  Turin  and  Florence  and  Rome  beflagged  and  decorated 
on  the  occasions  of  popular  rejoicings ;  I  have  seen  historical 
processions  in  the  university  towns  of  Utrecht  and  Leyden  ; 
I  have  seen  triumphal  entries  in  Brussels ;  I  was  in  London 
on  Thanksgiving  day,  but  I  have  never  beheld  anything  to 
compare  with  the  wedged  masses  of  people  along  the  whole 
of  the  route,  as  far  as  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  on  that  Satur- 
day afternoon.  The  whole  of  the  suburban  population  had, 
as  it  were,  flocked  into  Paris.  The  regulars  lined  one  side  of 
the  whole  length  of  the  Boulevards,  the  National  Guards  the 
other.     And  there  was  not  a  single  house  form  the  station  to 


34:2  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  southernmost  corner  of  the  Rue  Royale  that  had  not  its 
emblems,  its  trophies,  its  inscriptions  of  "  welcome."  With 
that  inborn  taste  which  distinguishes  the  Parisians,  the  deco- 
rator had  ceased  trying  to  gild  the  gold  and  to  paint  the  lily 
at  that  point,  and  had  left  the  magnificent  perspective  to  pro- 
duce its  own  effect — a  few  Venetian  masts  along  the  Avenue 
de  Champs-Elysees  and  nothing  more.  Among  the  notable 
features  of  the  decorations  in  the  main  artery  of  Paris  was 
the  magnificent  triumphal  arch,  erected  by  the  management 
of  the  Opera  between  the  Rue  de  Richelieu  and  what  is  now 
the  Rue  Drouot.  It  rose  to  the  fourth  stories  of  the. adjacent 
houses,  and  looked,  not  a  temporary  structure,  but  a  monu- 
ment intended  to  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  ages.  iNTo  de- 
scription could  convey  an  idea  of  its  grandeur.  The  inside 
was  draped  throughout  with  bee-bespangled  purple,  the  top 
was  decorated  with  immense  eagles,  seemingly  in  full 
flight,  and  holding  between  their  talons  proportionately  large 
scutcheons,  bearing  the  interlaced  monograms  of  the  Imperial 
hosts  and  the  Royal  guests.  In  front  of  the  Passage  de  I'Opera 
stood  an  allegorical  statue,  on  a  very  beautiful  pedestal  draped 
with  flags ;  and  further  on,  at  the  back  of  the  Opera-Comique, 
which  really  should  have  been  its  front,*  an  obelisk,  the  base 
of  which  was  a  correct  representation,  in  miniature,  of  the 
Palais  de  I'Industrie  (the  then  Exhibition  Building).  By  the 
Madeleine  a  battalion  of  the  National  Guards  had  erected, 
at  their  own  cost,  two  more  allegorical  statutes,  France  and 
England.  A  deputation  from  the  National  Guards  had  also 
presented  her  Majesty  with  a  magnificent  bouquet  on  alight- 
ing from  the  train. 

By  a  very  delicate  attention,  the  private  apartments  of  the 
Queen  had,  in  many  ways,  been  made  to  look  as  much  as 
possible  like  those  at  Windsor  Castle ;  and  where  this  trans- 
formation was  found  impossible  by  reason  of  their  style  of 
decoration — such  as,  for  instance,  in  the  former  boudoir  of 
Marie-Antoinette, — the  mural  paintings  and  those  of  the 
ceiling  had  been  restored  by  two  renowned  artists.  In  addi- 
tion to  this,  the  most  valuable  pictures  had  been  borrowed 

*  In  1T82,  -when  Heurtier,  the  architect,  submitted  his  plan  of  the  building 
which  was  intended  for  the  Italian  singing-actors,  the  latter  offered  a  deter- 
mined opposition  to  the  idea  of  the  theatre  facing  the  Boulevards,  lest  they 
should  be  confounded  with  the  small  theatres  on  the  Boulevard  du  Temple  and 
in  the  direction  of  the  present  Boulevard  des  Filles-du-Calvaire.  This  extraor- 
dinary vanity  was  lampooned  on  all  sides,  and  especially  in  a  quatrain,  which 
I  forbear  to  quote  even  in  French. — Eoitob. 


SUNDAY  AT  ST.   CLOUD.  343 

from,  tlie  Louvre  to  enhance  the  splendour  of  the  reception 
and  dining  rooms,  while  none  but  crack  regiments  in  full 
dress  were  told  off  for  duty. 

The  day  after  the  Queen's  arrival  being  Sunday,  the  en- 
tertainment after  dinner  consisted  solely  of  a  private  concert ; 
on  the  Monday  the  Queen  visited  the  Pine  Arts'  Section  of 
the  Exhibition,  which  was  located  in  a  separate  building  at 
the  top  of  the  Avenue  Montaigne,  and  connected  with  the 
main  structure  by  beautifully  laid-out  gardens.  The  Queen 
spent  several  hours  among  the  modern  masterpieces  of  all 
nations,  and  two  French  artists  had  the  honour  of  being  pre- 
sented. I  will  not  be  certain  of  the  names,  because  I  was  not 
there,  but,  as  far  as  I  can  remember,  they  were  Ingres  and 
Horace  Vernet. 

While  on  the  subject  of  art,  I  cannot  help  digressing  for 
a  moment.  I  may  take  it  that  in  1855  a  good  many  English- 
men of  the  better  middle  classes,  though  not  exactly  ama- 
teurs or  connoisseurs  of  pictures,  were  acquainted  with  the 
names,  if  not  with  the  works,  of  the  French  masters  of  the 
modern  school.  Well,  in  that  same  year,  the  English  school 
burst  upon  the  corresponding  classes  in  France  like  a  revela- 
tion— nay,  I  may  go  further  still,  and  unhesitatingly  affirm 
that  not  a  few  critics,  and  those  of  the  best,  shared  the  as- 
tonishment of  the  non-professional  multitude.  They  had 
heard  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  and  Gainsborough,  perhaps  of 
Turner,  but  Constable  and  Moreland,  Wilkie  and  Webster, 
Mulready,  and  the  rest  of  the  younger  school,  were  simply  so 
many  names.  But  when  the  critics  did  become  aware  of 
their  existence,  their  criticisms  were  simply  a  delightful  series 
of  essays,  guiding  the  most  ignorant  to  a  due  appreciation  of 
those  Englishmen's  talents,  not  stinting  praise,  but  by  no 
means  withholding  blame,  instinctively  focussing  merits  and 
defects  in  a  few  brilliant  paragraphs,  which  detected  the 
painter's  intention  and  conception  as  well  as  his  execution 
both  from  a  technical,  as  well  as  dramatic,  graphic,  and  pic- 
torial point  of  view ;  which  showed,  not  only  the  influence  of 
general  surroundings,  but  dissected  the  residt  of  individual 
tendencies.  Many  a  time  since,  when  wading  through  the 
adipose  as  well  as  verbose  columns  dealing  with  similar  sub- 
jects in  English  newspapers,  have  I  longed  for  the  literary 
fleshpots  of  France,  which  contained  and  contain  real  nour- 
ishing substance,  nat  the  fatty  degeneration  of  an  ignoramus's 
brain,  and,  what  is  worse,  of  an  ignoramus  who  speaks  in 


34:4  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

numbers  from  a  less  valid  reason  than  Pope's ;  for  the  most 
repellant  peculiarity  of  these  effusions  are  the  numbers.  It 
would  seem  that  these  would-be  critics,  having  no  more  than 
the  ordinary  auctioneer's  intellect,  endeavour  as  much  as 
possible  to  assimilate  their  effusions  to  a  catalogue.  They 
are  an  abomination  to  the  man  who  can  write,  though  he 
may  know  nothing  about  painting,  and  to  the  man  who 
knows  about  painting  and  cannot  write.  The  pictorial 
art  of  England  must  indeed  be  a  hardy  plant  to  have  sur- 
vived the  approval  and  the  disapproval  of  these  barba- 
rians. 

To  come  back  to  the  Queen,  who,  after  leaving  the  Palais 
de  I'Industrie,  drove  to  several  points  of  interest  in  Paris, 
notably  to  la  Sainte-Chapelle.  The  route  taken  was  by  the 
Eue  de  Eivoli  and  the  Pont-Neuf ;  the  return  journey  was 
effected  by  the  Pont-aux- Changes  and  the  eastern  end  of  the 
same  street,  which  had  only  been  opened  recently,  as  far  as 
the  Place  de  la  Bastille.  Then,  and  then  only,  her  Majesty 
caught  sight  of  the  Boulevards  in  the  whole  of  their  extent. 
The  decorations  of  the  previous  day  but  one  had  not  been 
touched,  and  the  crowds  were  simply  one  tightly  wedged-in 
mass  of  humanity.  A  journalistic  friend  had  procured  me  a 
permis  de  circuler — in  other  words,  "  a  police  pass," — and  I 
made  the  way  from  the  Boulevard  Beaumarchais  to  Tortoni 
on  foot.  It  may  be  interesting  to  those  who  are  always  prat- 
ing about  the  friendship  between  England  and  France  to 
know  that  I  heard  not  a  single  cry  of  "  Vive  I'Angleterre ! " 
On  the  other  hand,  I  heard  a  great  many  of  "  Vive  la  Eeine  ! " 
Even  the  unthinking  crowd,  though  yielding  to  the  excite- 
ment of  the  moment,  seemed  to  distinguish  between  the 
country  and  her  ruler.  I  am  not  commenting  upon  this :  I 
am  merely  stating  a  fact.  Probably  it  is  not  England's  fault 
that  she  has  not  been  able  to  inspire  the  French  nation  as  a 
whole  with  anything  like  a  friendly  feeling,  but  it  is  as  well 
to  point  it  out.  During  the  whole  of  the  Crimean  War,  nine 
out  of  every  ten  educated  Frenchmen  openly  asserted  that 
France  had  been  made  a  cat's-paw  by  England,  that  the  alli- 
ance was  one  forced  upon  the  nation  by  Napoleon  from  dy- 
nastic and  personal,  rather  than  from  patriotic  and  national, 
motives ;  there  were  some  who,  at  the  moment  of  the  Queen's 
visit,  had  the  candour  to  say  that  this,  and  this  only,  would 
be  France's  reward  for  the  blood  and  money  spent  in  the 
struggle.    At  the  same  time,  it  is  but  fair  to  state  that  these 


ALEXANDRE  DUMAS  AND  THE  QUEEN.     345 

very  men  spoke  both  with  admiration  and  respect  of  Eng- 
land's sovereign. 

At  three  o'clock  there  was  a  brilliant  reception  at  the 
Elysee,  when  the  members  of  the  corps  diplomatique  accred- 
ited to  the  Tuileries  were  presented  to  the  Queen.  Shortly 
after  five  her  Majesty  returned  to  Saint-Cloud,  where,  in  the 
evening,  the  actors  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  gave,  at  the 
Queen's  special  request,  a  performance  of  "  Les  Demoiselles 
de  Saint- Cyr."  She  had  seen  the  piece  in  London,  and  been 
so  pleased  with  it  that  she  wished  to  see  it  again.  Though  I 
was  on  very  intimate  terms  with  Dumas,  we  had  not  met  for 
several  weeks,  which  was  not  wonderful,  seeing  that  I  was 
frequently  appealed  to  by  the  son  himself  for  news  of  his 
father.  "  What  has  become  of  him  ?  He  might  be  at  the 
antipodes  for  all  1  see  of  him,"  said  Alexandre  II.  about  a 
dozen  times  a  year.  However,  two  or  three  days  after  the 
performance  at  Saint-Cloud,  I  ran  against  him  in  the  Chaus- 
see  d  Antin.  "  Well,  you  ought  to  be  pleased,"  I  said ;  "  it  ap- 
pears that  not  only  has  the  Queen  asked  to  see  your  piece, 
Avhich  she  had  already  seen  in  London,  but  that  she  enjoyed 
it  even  much  better  the  second  than  the  first  time." 

"  C'est  comme  son  auteur,"  he  replied :  "  plus  on  le  con- 
nait,  plus  on  I'aime.  Je  sais  pourtant  bien  ce  qui  I'aurait 
amusec  meme  d'avantage  que  de  voir  ma  piece,  c'eut  ete  de 
me  voir  moi-m^»me,  et  franchement,  9a  m'aurait  amuse  aussi." 

"  Then  why  did  not  you  ask  for  an  audience  ?  I  am  cer- 
tain it  would  have  been  granted,"  I  remarked,  because  I  felt 
convinced  that  her  Majesty  would  have  been  only  too  pleased 
to  confer  an  honour  upon  such  a  man. 

"En  effet,  j'y  ai  pense,"  came  the  reply;  "ime  femme 
aussi  remarquable  et  qui  deviendra  probablement  la  plus 
grande  femme  du  siecle  aurait  du  se  rencontrer  avec  le  plus 
grandhomme  en  France,  mais  j'ai  eu  peur  qu'on  ne  me 
traite  comme  Madame  de  Stael  traitat  Saint-Simon.  C'est 
dommage,  parcequ'elle  s'en  ira  sans  avoir  vu  ce  qu'il  y  de 
mieux  dans  notre  pays,  Alexandre,  Roi  du  Monde  roma- 
nesque,  Dumas  I'ignorant."  Then  he  roared  with  laughter 
-  and  went  away.* 

*  Alexandre  Dumas  referred  to  a  story  in  connection  with  the  Comte  de 
Saint-Simon  and  Madame  de  Stael  which  is  not  very  generally  known.  One 
day  the  head  of  the  new  sect  went  to  see  the  authoress  of ''  Corinne."  "  Ma- 
dame," he  said,  "vous  etes  la  femme  la  plus  remarquable  en  France;  moi,je 
Buis  I'homme  le  plus  remarquable.    Si  nous  nous  arrangions  a  vivre  quelquea 


346  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

On  Tuesday,  the  21st,  the  Queen  went  to  Versailles  to  in- 
spect the  picture-galleries  established  there  by  Louis-Philippe, 
and,  in  the  evening,  she  was  present  at  a  gala-performance  at 
the  Opera.  Next  day,  she  paid  a  second  visit  to  the  Palais 
de  rindustrie,  but  to  the  industrial  section  only.  In  the 
evening,  there  was  a  performance  of  "  Le  Fils  de  Faniille  " 
("  The  Queen's  Shilling  ").  On  the  23rd,  she  spent  several 
hours  at  the  Louvre ;  after  which,  at  night,  she  attended  the 
ball  given  in  her  honour  by  the  Municipality  of  Paris.  I  shall 
not  attempt  to  describe  that  entertainment,  the  decorations 
and  flowers  of  which  alone  cost  three  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand francs.  The  whole  had  been  arranged  under  the  super- 
intendence of  Ballard,  the  architect  of  the  Halles  Centrales. 
But  I  remember  one  little  incident  which  caused  a  flutter  of 
surprise  among  the  court  ladies,  who,  even  at  that  time,  had 
already  left  off  dancing  in  the  pretty  old-fashioned  way,  and 
merely  walked  through  their  quadrilles.  The  royal  matron 
of  thirty-five,  with  a  goodly  family  growing  up  around  her, 
executed  every  step  as  her  dancing  master  had  taught  her, 
and  with  none  of  the  listlessness  that  was  supposed  to  be  the 
"  correct  thing."  I  was  standing  close  to  Canrobert,  who  had 
been  recalled  to  resume  his  functions  near  the  Emperor. 
After  watching  the  Queen  for  a  minute  or  so,  he  turned 
round  to  the  lady  on  his  arm.  "  Pardi,  elle  danse  comme  ses 
Boldats  se  battent,  'en  veux-tu,  en  voila;'  et  corrects  jusqu'4 
la  fin."  There  never  was  a  greater  admirer  of  the  English 
soldier  than  Canrobert.  The  splendour  of  that  fete  at  the 
H6tel-de-Ville  has  only  been  surpassed  once,  in  1867,  when 
the  civic  fathers  entertained  a  whole  batch  of  sovereigns. 

On  the  24th,  there  was  a  third  visit  to  the  Exhibition, 
and  I  remember  eight  magnificent  carriages  passing  down  the 
Avenue  des  Champs-Elysees.  They  were,  however,  only 
drawn  by  two  horses  each.  I  was  making  my  way  to  the 
Champ  de  Mars,  where  a  review  was  to  be  held  in  honour  of 
her  Majesty,  and  had  told  the  cab  to  wait  in  the  Kue  Beau- 
jon,  while  I  stepped  into  the  main  road  to  have  a  look  at  the 
beautiful  scene.  The  moment  the  carriages  were  past  I  re- 
turned to  the  Eue  Beaujon,  and  ran  up  against  Beranger, 

mois  ensemble,  nous  aurions  peut-etre  I'enfant  le  plus  rcmarquable  sur  la  terre.' 
Madame  de  Stael  politely  declined  the  honour.  As  for  the  epithet  of  "  I'igno- 
rant "  which  Dumas  was  fond  of  applying  to  himself,  it  arose  from  the  fact  of 
Dumas,  the  celebrated  professor  of  chemistry,  being  spoken  of  as  "  Dumas  le 
savant."    "  Done,"  laughed  the  novelist,  "  je  suis  Dumas  I'ignorant." — Editob. 


BfiRANGER  AND  THE  QUEEN.  347 

who  was  living  there.  The  old  man  seemed  in  a  great  hurry, 
which  was  rather  surprising,  because  he  was  essentially  phleg- 
matic, and  rarely  put  himself  out  for  anything.  So  I  asked 
him  the  reason  of  his  haste.  "  I  want  to  see  your  queen," 
he  replied.  A  year  or  two  before  he  had  refused  to  go  to  the 
Tuileries  to  see  the  Empress,  who  had  sent  for  him ;  and  the 
latter,  who  could  be  most  charming  when  she  liked,  had  paid 
him  a  visit  instead. 

"  I  thought  you  did  not  trouble  yourself  much  about 
royalty,"  I  remarKed.  "  You  refused  to  go  and  see  the  Em- 
press, and  you  rush  along  to  see  the  Queen  ?  " 

"  Non ;  je  vais  voir  la  femme :  s'il  y  avait  beaucoup  de 
femmes  comme  elle,  je  leur  pardonnerais  d'etre  reines." 

Her  Majesty  has  never  heard  of  this.  It  was  the  most 
magnificent  and,  at  the  same  time,  most  witty  tribute  to 
her  private  virtues.  All  this  happened  many,  many  years 
ago.  Since  then  I  have  often  wondered  why  Prince  Albert, 
who,  I  feel  certain,  knew  the  worth  of  all  these  men  as  well 
as  he  knew  the  merit  of  the  litterateurs  of  his  own  country, 
did  not  suggest  to  his  august  consort  a  reception  such  as  she 
gave  to  the  corps  diplomatique.  It  would  have  been  a  most 
original  thing  to  do ;  the  recollection  of  it  would  have  been 
more  delightful  even  than  the  most  vivid  recollections  of  that 
very  wonderful  week. 

In  those  days,  France  was  still  looked  upon  as  the  first 
military  power  in  Europe.  Her  soldiers  were  probably  not 
superior  to  those  who  fell  in  the  Franco-German  war,  but 
their  prestige  had  not  been  questioned.  They  were  also  more 
sightly  than  the  ill-clad  legions  of  the  Third  Republic,  so  the 
review  was  a  very  splendid  affair.  At  its  termination,  her 
Majesty  repaired  to  the  Invalides,  to  the  tomb  of  Napoleon, 
which,  though  it  had  been  begun,  as  I  have  incidentally 
stated,  under  the  premiership  of  M.  Guizot  in  1846-47,  was 
not  finished  then,  and  only  officially  inaugurated  nearly  six 
years  afterwards. 

My  ticket  for  the  review  had  been  given  to  me  by  Mar- 
shal Vaillant,  the  minister  for  war,  and  the  only  Marshal  of 
the  Second  Empire  with  whom  I  was,  at  that  time,  intimately 
acquainted ;  though  I  became  on  very  friendly  terms  with 
Marshals  MacMahon  and  Lebrun  subsequently. 

I  will  devote,  by-and-by,  a  few  notes  to  this  most  original 
soldier-figure — he  was  only  a  type  in  some  respects ;  mean- 
while, I  may  mention  here  an  anecdote,  in  connection  with 


348  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

this  visit  of  the  Queen,  characteristic  of  the  man.  The 
governor  of  the  Invalides  was  the  late  King  of  Westphalia, 
Jerome  Bonaparte.  It  was  but  natural  that  he  should  have 
been  chosen  as  the  custodian  of  his  brother's  last  resting- 
place.  It  was  equally  natural  that  he  should  feel  reluctant 
to  meet  at  that  tomb  the  sovereign  of  a  country  which,  he  con- 
sidered, had  tortured  that  brother  to  death.  Consequently 
the  last  survivor  of  the  elder  Bonapartes,  the  one  who  had 
also  fought  at  Waterloo,  foreseeing,  as  it  were,  this  pilgrim- 
age on  the  part  of  her  Majesty,  had,  a  fortnight  or  so  before 
the  date  of  her  intended  visit,  gone  to  Havre,  whither  he  had 
been  ordered  by  his  doctor  on  account  of  his  health,  and 
whence  he  only  returned  when  the  Queen  of  England  had 
left  France. 

The  deputy-governor  of  the  Invalides  was,  perhaps,  not 
considered  sufficiently  important  to  do  the  honours  to  so 
illustrious  a  visitor,  and  Marshal  Vaillant  was  sounded  wheth- 
er he  would  undertake  the  functions.  He  declined.  "  Je 
n'ai  pas  I'honneur,  sire,"  he  said,  "  d'appartenir  a  votre 
illustre  famille  et  personne  sauf  la  famille  d'un  grand  homme 
a  le  droit  d'oublier  les  souffrances  que  ses  ennemis  lui  ont  in- 
fligees."  He  was  an  honest,  upright  soldier,  abrupt  and  self- 
willed,  but  kindly  withal,  and  plainly  perceived  the  faults  of 
Louis-Napoleon's  policy  and  of  his  frequently  misplaced 
generosity — above  all,  of  his  system  of  conciliating  the  sov- 
ereigns of  Europe  by  f^tes  and  entertainments.  "  Quand 
I'autre  leur  donnait  des  fetes  et  des  representations  de  thed- 
tre,  c'etait  chez  eux,  et  pas  chez  nous,  ils  en  payaient  les 
frais."     More  of  him  in  a  little  while. 

At  the  Queen's  first  visit  to  Versailles — the  second  took 
place  on  the  Saturday  before  she  left — she  had  been  deeply 
moved  at  the  sight  of  the  picture  representing  her  welcome 
at  Eu  by  Louis- Philippe,  to  which  ceremony  I  alluded  in  one 
of  my  former  notes.  But  even  before  this  she  had  expressed 
a  wish  to  see  the  ruins  of  the  Chateau  de  Neuilly,  and  the 
commemorative  chapel  erected  on  the  spot  where  the  Due 
d'Orleans  met  with  his  fatal  accident.  "  La  femme  qui  est  si 
fiddle  d  ses  vieilles  amities  au  milieu  des  nouvelles,  surtout 
quand  il  s'agit  de  dynasties  rivales,  comme  en  ce  moment,  et 
quand  cette  femme  est  une  reine,  cette  femme  est  une  amis 
bien  precieuse,"  said  Jerome's  son.  Both  the  Emperor  and 
the  Empress  found  that  their  cousin  had  spoken  truly. 

Saturday,  the  25th,  had  been  fixed  for  the  f6te  at  Ver- 


FfiTES  AT  VERSAILLES.  349 

sailles.  In  the  morning,  the  Queen  went  to  the  palace  of 
Saint-Germain,  wliich  no  Englisli  sovereign  had  visited  since 
James  II.  lived  there.  She  returned  to  Saint-Cloud,  and 
thence  to  the  magnificent  abode  of  Louis  XIV.,  Avhich  she 
reached  after  dark — the  Place  d'Armes  and  the  whole  of  the 
erstwhile  royal  residence  being  brilliantly  illuminated. 

The  Imperial  and  Koyal  party  entered  by  the  Marble 
Court,  in  the  centre  of  which  the  pedestal  to  the  statue  of 
Louis  XIV.  had  been  decorated  with  the  rarest  flowers.  The 
magnificent  marble  staircase  had,  however,  been  laid  with 
thick  purple  carpets,  and  the  balustrades  almost  disappeared 
beneath  masses  of  exotics ;  it  was  the  first  time,  if  I  remem- 
ber rightly,  that  I  had  seen  mosses  and  ferns  and  foliage  in 
such  profusion.  The  Cent  Gardes  and  the  Guides  de  I'lm- 
peratrice  were  on  duty,  the  former  on  the  staircase  itself,  the 
latter  below,  in  the  vestibule.  At  the  top,  to  the  right  and 
left,  the  private  apartments  of  the  Empress  had  been  ar- 
ranged, the  Queen  occupied  those  formerly  belonging  to 
Marie-Antoinette.  I  was  enabled  to  see  these  a  few  days 
later ;  they  were  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  the  decorative 
art  that  flourished  under  Louis  XVI.  I  have  ever  beheld. 
The  boudoir  was  upholstered  in  light  blue,  festoons  of  roses 
running  along  the  walls,  and  priceless  Dresden  groups  dis- 
tributed everywhere ;  the  dressing-rooms  were  hung  with 
pale  green,  with  garlands  upon  garlands  of  violets.  The 
toilet  service  was  of  Sevres,  with  medallions  after  Lancret 
and  Watteau.  The  historical  Salle  de  I'CEil-de-Boeuf,  which 
preceded  her  Majesty's  apartments,  had  been  transformed 
into  a  splendid  reception-room  for  the  use  of  the  Imperial 
hosts  and  all  their  Royal  guests,  for  there  were  one  or  two 
foreign  princes  besides,  notably  Prince  Adalbert  of  Bavaria. 

The  ball  was  to  take  place  in  the  famous  Galerie  des 
Glaces  ;  the  Empress  herself  had  presided  at  its  transforma- 
tion, which  had  been  inspired  by  a  Avell-known  print  of  "  Une 
Fete  sous  Louis  Quinze."  More  garlands  of  roses,  but  this 
time  drooping  from  the  ceiling  and  connecting  the  forty 
splendid  lustres,  which,  together  with  the  candelabra  on  the 
walls,  could  not  have  contained  less  than  three  thousand  wax 
candles.  At  each  of  the  four  angles  of  the  vast  apartment  a 
small  orchestra  had  been  erected,  but  very  high  up,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  network  of  gilt  wire. 

At  the  stroke  of  ten  those  wonderful  gardens  became  all 
of  a  sudden  ablaze  with  rockets  and  Chinese  candles ;  it  was 


850  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  beginning  of  the  fireworks,  the  principal  piece  of  which 
represented  Windsor  Castle.  After  this,  tlie  ball  was  opened 
by  the  Queen  and  the  Emperor,  the  Empress  and  Prince 
Albert ;  but  though  the  example  had  been  given,  there  was 
very  little  dancing.  I  was  a  comparatively  young  man  then, 
but  I  was  too  busy  feasting  my  eyes  with  the  marvellous 
toilettes  to  pay  much  heed  to  the  seductivd  strains,  which  at 
other  times  would  have  set  me  tripping.  I  fancy  this  was 
the  case  with  most  of  the  guests. 

On  the  Monday  the  Queen  left  for  home. 


MARSHAL  VAILLANT.  351 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Marshal  Vaillant — The  beginning  of  our  acquaintance — His  stories  of  the  S'n-ash- 
bucklers  of  the  First  Empire,  and  the  beaux  of  the  Kestauration — Eabe- 
laisian,  but  clever — Marshal  Vaillant  neither  a  swashbuckler  nor  a  beau ; 
hated  both — Never  cherished  the  slightest  illusions  about  the  efficiency  of 
the  French  army — Acknowledged  himself  unable  to  effect  the  desired  and 
necessary  reforms — To  do  that,  a  minister  of  war  must  become  a  fixture — 
Why  he  staved — Careful  of  the  jjublic  moneys,  and  of  the  Emperor's  also — 
Napoleon  III.'s  lavishness — An  instance  of  it — Vaillant  never  dazzled  by 
the  grandeur  of  court  entertainments — Not  dazzled  by  anything — His  hatred 
of  wind-bags — Prince  de  Canino — Matutinal  interviews — Prince  de  Canino 
sends  his  seconds — Vaillant  declines  the  meeting,  and  gives  his  reason — 
Vaillant  abrupt  at  the  best  of  times— A  freezing  reception — A  comic  inter- 
view— Attempts  to  shirk  military  duty — Tricks — Mistakes — A  story  in 
point — More  tricks — Sham  ailments :  how  the  marshal  dealt  with  them — 
When  the  marshal  was  not  in  an  amiable  mood — Another  interview — Var- 
iant's tactics — "  D d  annoying  to  be  wrong  " — The  marshal  fond  of  sci- 
ence— -A  very  interesting  scientific  phenomenon  himself — Science  vinder 
the  later  Bourbons — Suspicion  of  the  soldiers  of  the  Empire — The  priest- 
hood and  the  police — The  most  godless  republic  preferable  to  a  continuance 
of  their  regime— The  marshal's  dog,  Brusca — Her  dislike  to  civilians — 
Brusca's  chastity — Vaillant's  objection  to  insufficiently  prepaid  letters — His 
habit  of  missing  the  train,  notwithstanding  his  precautions — His  objection 
to  fuss  and  public  honours. 

About  two  or  three  days  after  the  ball  at  Versailles,  I 
went  to  see  Marshal  Vaillant  at  the  War  Office,  to  thank  him 
for  his  kindness  in  sending  me  the  ticket  for  the  review. 
Our  acquaintance  was  already  then  of  a  couple  of  years' 
standing.  It  had  begun  at  Dr.  Veron's,  who  lived,  at  the 
time,  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  and  the  Rue  de 
Castiglione.  The  old  soldier — he  was  over  sixty  then — had 
a  very  good  memory,  and  used  to  tell  me  garrison  stories, 
love-adventures  of  the  handsome  swashbucklers  of  the  First 
Empire  and  of  the  beaux  of  the  Restauration.  The  language 
was  frequently  that  of  Rabelais  or  Moliere,  vigorous,  to  the 
point,  calling  a  spade  a  spade,  and,  as  such,  not  particularly 
adapted  to  these  notes,  but  the  narrator  himself  was  neither 
a  swashbuckler  nor  a  beau  ;  he  hated  the  carpet-knight  only 
one  degree  more  than  the  sab:*ur,  and  when  both  were  com- 
bined in  the  same  man — not  an  unusual  thing  during  the 


352  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Second  Empire,  especially  after  the  Crimean  and  Franco- 
Austrian  wars — he  simply  loathed  him.  He  fostered  not  the 
slightest  illusions  about  the  efficiency  of  the  French  army, 
albeit  that,  to  an  alien  like  myself  and  notwithstanding  his 
friendship  for  me,  he  would  veil  his  strictures.  At  the  same 
time,  he  frankly  acknowledged  himself  unable  to  effect  the 
desired  reforms.  "  It  wants,  first  of  all,  a  younger  and  abler 
man  than  I  am ;  secondly,  he  must  become  a  fixture.  No 
change  of  ministry,  no  political  vicissitudes  ought  to  affect 
him.  I  do  not  play  a  political  r61e,  and  never  mean  to  play 
one  ;  and  if  I  could  find  a  man  who  would  carry  out  the  re- 
forms at  the  War  Office,  or,  rather,  reorganize  the  whole  as 
it  should  be  reorganized,  I  would  make  room  for  him  to- 
morrow I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  I  derive  a  very 
comfortable  income  from  my  various  offices,  and  I  am  a 
pluralist.  If  I  did  not  take  the  money,  some  one  else  would 
who  has  not  got  a  scrap  more  talent  than  I  have.  There  is 
not  a  single  man  who  dare  tell  the  nation  that  its  army  is 
rotten  to  the  core,  that  there  is  not  a  general  who  knows  as 
much  as  a  mere  captain  in  the  Austrian  and  Prussian  armies ; 
and  it  he  had  the  courage  to  tell  the  nation,  he  would  be 
hounded  out  of  the  country,  his  life  would  be  made  a  burden 
to  him.  That  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  am  staying,  be- 
cause I  can  do  no  good  by  going;  on  the  contrary,  I  might 
do  a  good  deal  of  harm.  Because,  as  you  see  it,  the  three 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  of  my  different  appoint- 
ments, I  save  them  by  looking  after  the  money  of  the  State. 
Not  that  I  can  do  much,  but  I  do  what  I  can." 

That  was  very  true :  he  was  very  careful  of  the  public 
moneys,  and  of  the  resources  of  the  Emperor  also,  entrusted 
to  him  by  virtue  of  his  position  as  Grand-Marechal  du  Palais ; 
it  was  equally  true  that  he  could  not  do  much.  Napoleon 
was,  by  nature,  lavish  and  soft-hearted ;  as  a  consequence,  he 
became  the  butt  of  every  impostor  who  could  get  a  letter  con- 
veyed to  him.  His  civil  list  of  over  a  million  and  a  half 
sterling  was  never  sufficient.  He  himself  was  simple  enough 
in  his  tastes,  but  he  knew  that  pomp  and  state  were  dear  to 
the  heart  of  Frenchmen,  and  he  indulged  them  accordingly. 
But  his  charity  was  a  personal  matter.  He  could  have  no 
more  done  without  it  than  without  his  eternal  cigarette.  He 
called  the  latter  "  safety-valve  of  the  brain  ;  the  former  the 
safety-valve  of  pride."  I  renumber  an  anecdote  which  was 
told  to  me  by  some  one  who  was  in  his  immediate  entourage 


LOUIS-NAPOLfeON'S  GENEROSITY.  353 

when  he  was  only  President.  It  was  on  the  eve  of  a  journey 
to  some  provincial  town,  and  at  the  termination  of  a  cabinet 
council.  While  talking  to  some  of  his  ministers,  he  took  a 
couple  of  five-franc  pieces  from  his  waistcoat,  and  spun  them 
English  fashion.  "  C'est  tout  ce  qui  me  reste  pour  mon  voy- 
age de  demain,  messieurs,"  he  said,  smiling.  One  of  them, 
M.  Ferdinand  Barrot,  saw  that  he  was  in  earnest,  and  bor- 
rowed ten  thousand  francs,  which  the  President  found  on  his 
dressing-table  when  retiring  for  the  night.  Four  and  twenty 
hours  after,  Napoleon  had  not  even  his  two  five-franc  pieces : 
they  and  M.  Barrot's  loan  had  disappeared  in  subscriptions  to 
local  charities.  Among  the  papers  found  at  the  Tuileries 
after  the  Emperor's  flight,  there  were  over  two  thousand  beg- 
ging letters,  all  dated  within  a  twelvemonth,  and  all  marked 
with  their  answer  in  the  corner — that  is,  with  the  amount 
sent  in  reply.  That  sum  amounted  to  not  less  than  sixty 
thousand  francs.  And  be  it  remembered  that  these  were  the 
petitions  the  Emperor  had  not  entrusted  to  his  secretaries  or 
ministers  as  coming  within  their  domain.  The  words  of 
Marshal  Vaillant,  spoken  many  years  before,  "  I  cannot  do 
much,  but  I  do  what  I  can,"  are  sufficiently  explained. 

On  the  day  alluded  to  above,  the  marshal  was  seriously 
complaining  of  the  Emjoeror's  extravagance.  He  did  not 
hold  with  entertaining  so  many  sovereigns.  "  I  do  not  say 
this,"  he  added,  "  with  regard  to  yours,  for  her  hospitality  de- 
served such  return  as  the  Emperor  gave  her ;  but  with  regard 
to  the  others  who  will  come,  you  may  be  sure,  if  we  last  long 
enough.  Well,  we'll  see;  perhaps  you'll  remember  my 
words." 

In  fact,  the  old  soldier  was  never  much  dazzled  by  the 
grandeur  of  those  entertainments,  nor  did  he  foster  many 
illusions  with  regard  to  their  true  value  in  cementing  inter- 
national friendships.  The  marshal  was  not  dazzled  by  any- 
thing ;  and  though  deferential  enough  to  the  members  of  the 
emperor's  family,  he  never  scrupled  to  tell  them  his  mind. 
The  Emperor's  cousin  (Plon-Plon)  could  tell  some  curious 
stories  to  that  effect.  The  marshal  had  a  hatred  of  long- 
winded  people,  and  especially  of  what  Carlyle  calls  wind-bags. 
Another  of  Louis-Napoleon's  cousins  came  decidedly  under 
the  latter  description :  I  allude  to  the  Prince  de  Canino.  In 
order  to  get  rid  as  much  as  possible  of  wordy  visitors,  Vaillant 
had  hit  upon  the  method  of  granting  them  their  interviews 
at  a  very^  very  early  hour  in  the  morning ;  in  the  summer  at 


354:  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

6.30  in  the  morning,  in  the  winter  at  7.15.  "  People  do  not 
like  getting  out  of  bed  at  that  time,  unless  they  have  some- 
thing serious  to  communicate,"  he  said  ;  and  would  not  relax 
his  rule,  even  for  the  softer  sex.  The  old  warrior,  who  had 
probably  been  an  early  riser  all  his  life,  found  the  arrange- 
ment work  so  well,  that  he  determined  at  last  not  to  make 
any  exceptions.  "I  get  the  day  to  myself,"  he  laughed. 
Now,  it  so  happened  that  the  Prince  de  Canino  asked  him 
for  an  interview ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  Vaillant  ap- 
pointed the  usual  hour.  Next  morning,  to  Vaillant's  great 
surprise,  instead  of  the  Prince,  came  two  of  his  friends.  The 
latter  came  to  ask  satisfaction  of  Vaillant  for  having  dared 
to  disturb  a  personage  of  the  Prince's  importance  at  so  early 
an  hour.  "  Mais  je  ne  I'ai  pas  derange  du  tout :  il  n'avait 
qu'a  ne  pas  venir,  ce  que  du  reste,  il  a  fait,"  said  Vaillant ; 
then  he  added,  "  Mais,  m6me,  si  je  consentais  a  donner  raison 
au  prince  de  mon  offense  imaginaire,  je  ne  me  battrai  pas  4 
quatre  heures  de  I'apres-midi ;  done,  il  aurait  a  se  deranger ; 
il  vaut  mieux  qu'il  reste  dans  son  lit.  Je  vous  saliie,  mes- 
sieurs." With  which  he  bowed  them  out.  When  the  Em- 
peror heard  of  it,  he  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks,  and  Napoleon  did  not  laugh  outright  very  often  or 
easily. 

There  are  a  great  many  stories  about  this  objection  of 
Marshal  Vaillant  to  be  troubled  for  nothing ;  and,  as  usual, 
they  overshoot  the  mark.  He  is  supposed  to  have  acted  very 
cavalierly  with  highly  placed  personages,  and  even  with  ladies 
in  very  high  society.  Of  course,  I  was  never  present  at  in- 
terviews of  that  kind,  but  during  my  long  acquaintance  with 
him,  I  was  often  seated  at  his  side  when  less  exalted  visitors 
were  admitted.  At  the  best  of  times  his  manner  was  abrupt, 
though  rarely  rude,  unless  there  was  a  reason  for  it,  albeit 
that  the  outsider  might  fail  to  fathom  it  at  the  first  blush. 
I  remember  being  with  him  in  his  private  room,  somewhere 
about  the  sixties,  when  his  attendant  brought  him  a  card. 

"Show  the  gentleman  in,"  said  Vaillant,  after  having 
looked  at  it. 

Enter ^  a  tall,  well-dressed  individual,  the  rosette  of  the 
Legion  of  Honour  in  his  button-hole,  evidently  a  retired 
officer. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  with  me  ?  "  asked  the  marshal,  who 
had  remained  seated  with  his  back  towards  the  visitor. 

"  Being  in  Paris  for  the  Christmas  and  New  Year's  holi- 


VAILLANT  AT  HIS  WORST.  355 

days,  your  excellency,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  pay  my  re- 
spects to  you." 

"  Is  that  all  you  want  with  me  ?  "  asked  the  marshal. 

"  That  is  all,  your  excellency,"  stammered  the  visitor. 

"  Very  well :  then  I'll  wish  you  good  morning." 

I  suppose  I  must  have  looked  somewhat  shocked  at  this 
very  unceremonious  proceeding,  for,  when  the  door  was  closed, 
the  marshal  explained. 

"  You  need  not  think  that  I  have  done  him  an  injustice. 
When  fellows  like  this  present  their  respects  it  always  means 
that  they  want  me  to  present  them  with  something  else ;  that 
is  why  I  cut  them  short." 

Sometimes  these  interviews  took  a  comical  turn,  for  the 
marshal  could  be  very  witty  when  he  liked.  In  the  land  of 
"  equality,"  everybody  is  always  on  the  look-out  for  greater 
privileges  than  his  fellows,  and  in  no  case  were  and  are 
favours  more  indiscriminately  requested  than  with  the  view 
of  avoiding  military  service.  A  thousand  various  pretexts, 
most  of  them  utterly  ridiculous,  were  brought  forward  by  the 
parents  to  preserve  their  precious  sons  from  the  hated  bar- 
rack life.  In  many  instances,  a  few  years  of  soldiering  would 
have  done  those  young  hopefuls  a  great  deal  of  good,  be- 
cause those  who  clamoured  loudest  for  exemption  were  only 
spending  their  time  in  idleness  and  mischief.  In  the  prov- 
inces there  was  a  chance  of  influencing  the  conseil  de  re- 
vision by  means  of  the  prefet,  if  the  parents  were  known  to 
be  favourable  to  the  government ;  by  means  of  the  bishops, 
if  they  still  had  a  hankering  after  the  former  dynasties ;  and, 
not  to  mince  matters,  if  they  were  simply  rich,  by  means  of 
bribery.  In  Paris  the  matter  was  somewhat  more  difficult ; 
the  members  of  the  council  were  frequently  changed  at  the 
last  moment,  and  at  all  times  the  recruits  to  be  examined 
were  too  numerous  for  a  parent  to  trust  to  the  memory  of 
those  members.  The  military  authorities  had  introduced  a 
new  rule,  to  the  effect  that  the  names  of  the  recruits  to  be 
examined  should  not  be  called  out  until  their  examination 
was  finished ;  and,  with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  it  is  often 
difficult  to  distinguish  between  un  fils  de  famille  and  a  down- 
right plebeian  if  both  happen  to  come  before  you  "  as  God 
made  them."  Consequently,  notwithstanding  the  considerable 
ingenuity  of  the  parties  interested  to  let  the  examining  sur- 
geon-major known."  who  was  who,"  mistakes  frequently  oc- 
curred ;  the  young  artisan,  who  had  no  more  the  matter  with 


356  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

him  than  the  young  wealthy  bourgeois,  was  dismissed  as  unfit 
for  the  service,  while  the  latter  was  pronounced  apt  in  every 
respect. 

Apropos  of  this,  I  know  a  good  story,  for  the  truth  of 
which  I  can  vouch,  because  it  happened  to  a  member  of  the 
family  with  which  I  became  connected  by  marriage  after- 
wards. He  had  a  son  who  was  of  the  same  age  as  his  coach- 
man's. Both  the  lads  went  to  draw  at  the  same  time,  both 
drew  low  numbers.  The  substitute  system  was  still  in  force, 
but,  just  at  that  moment,  there  was  a  war-scare — not  without 
foundation — and  substitutes  reached  high  prices.  It  would 
not  have  mattered  much  to  the  rich  man.  Unfortunately, 
he  was  tight-fisted,  and  the  mother  pleaded  in  vain.  The 
wife  was  just  as  extravagant  as  the  husband  was  mean ;  she 
had  no  savings,  and  she  cudgelled  her  brain  to  find  the  means 
of  preserving  her  darling  from  the  vile  contact  of  his  social 
inferiors  without  putting  her  hand  in  her  pocket — which, 
moreover,  was  empty.  She  went  a  great  deal  into  society, 
was  very  handsome,  clever,  and  fascinating.  By  dint  of 
ferreting,  she  got  to  know  the  probable  composition  of  the 
con  sell  de  revision — barring  accidents.  History  does  not 
say  how,  but  she  wheedled  the  surgeon-major  into  giving  her 
a  distinct  promise  to  do  his  best  for  her  dear  son.  Of  course, 
in  order  to  do  some  good,  the  surgeon  had  to  see  the  young 
fellow  first;  and  there  was  the  difficulty,  because  madame 
had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  officer  under  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances, and  could  not  very  well  introduce  him  to  her 
home :  besides,  just  on  account  of  the  war-scare,  the  authori- 
ties had  become  very  strict,  the  practices  of  many  officers 
were  suspected,  and  it  would  never  have  done  for  the  gentle- 
man to  give  his  superiors  as  much  as  a  loophole  for  their 
suspicion  by  visiting  the  lady.  Time  was  getting  short ;  the 
acquaintance  had  ripened  into  friendship  very  quickly,  be- 
cause, three  days  before  the  time  appointed  for  the  sitting  of 
the  council,  madame  had  never  seen  the  surgeon,  and  on  the 
eve  of  that  sitting  the  final  arrangement  had  been  concluded. 
It  was  to  this  effect :  that  madame's  son  would  pretend  to 
have  hurt  his  hand,  and  appear  with  a  black  silk  bandage 
round  his  wrist.  The  thing  is  scarcely  credible,  but  the 
coachman's  son,  an  engine-fitter,  had  hurt  his  wrist,  and  put 
a  strip  of  black  ribbon  round  it.  The  coachman's  family 
name  began  with  a  B,  the  lady's  name  with  a  C.  The  coach- 
man's son  was  taken  for  the  other,  and  declared  unfit  for 


TRICKS  TO  AVOID  MILITARY  SERVICE.  357 

military  service  by  reason  of  his  chest,  to  his  great  surprise 
and  joy,  as  may  be  imagined.  But  the  surprise,  thougli  not 
the  joy,  of  the  examining  officer  was  greater  still  when,  in 
the  next  batch,  another  young  fellow  appeared  with  a  strip 
of  black  ribbon  round  his  wrist.  To  ask  his  name  was  an 
impossibility.  The  surgeon  was  afraid  that  he  had  been  be- 
trayed, or  that  his  secret  had  leaked  out,  and,  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  declared  the  real  Simon  Pure  sound  in 
lungs  and  limb. 

I  am  afraid  I  have  drifted  a  little  bit  from  Marshal  Yail- 
lant's  comical  interviews,  but  am  coming  back  to  them  in  a 
roundabout  way.  The  common,  or  garden  trick  to  get  those 
young  fellows  exempted,  where  bribery  was  impossible  or 
private  influence  out  of  the  question,  was  to  make  them  sham 
short-sightedness,  or  deafness,  or  impediment  in  the  speech. 
AVe  have  heard  before  now  of  professors  who  cure  people  of 
stammering :  it  is  a  well-known  fact  that  in  those  days  there 
was  a  professor  who  taught  people  to  stammer ;  while,  per- 
sonally, I  know  an  optician  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italians 
whose  father  made  a  not  inconsiderable  fortune  by  spoiling 
young  fellows'  sights — that  is,  by  training  them,  for  a  twelve- 
month before  the  drawing  of  lots,  to  wear  very  powerful 
lenses.  Of  course,  this  had  to  be  done  gradually,  and  his  fee 
was  a  thousand  francs.  I  have  known  him  to  have  as  many 
as  twenty  or  thirty  pupils  at  a  time.  Xo  doubt  the  authori- 
ties were  perfectly  aware  of  this,  but  they  had  no  power  to 
interfere.  The  process  for  "  teaching  deafness  "  was  even  a 
more  complicated  one,  but  it  did  succeed  for  a  time  in  im- 
posing upon  the  experts,  until,  by  a  ministerial  decree,  it 
was  resolved  to  draft  all  these  clever  stammerers,  and  even 
those  who  were  really  suffering  from  the  complaints  the  others 
simulated,  into  the  transport  and  medical  services. 

It  was  then  that  Marshal  Vaillant  was  overwhelmed  with 
visits  from  anxious  matrons  who  wanted  to  save  their  sons, 
and  that  the  comical  interviews  took  place.. 

"  But,  excellency,  my  son  is  really  as  deaf  as  a  post,"  one 
would  exclaim. 

"  All  the  better,  madame  :  he  won't  be  frightened  at  the 
first  sound  of  serious  firing.  Xearly  all  young  recruits  are 
terror-stricken  at  the  first  whizzing  of  the  bullets  around 
them.  I  was,  myself,  I  assure  3'ou.  He'll  make  an  admira- 
ble soldier." 

""  But  he  won't  be  able  to  hear  the  word  of  command." 


358  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"  Not  necessary,  madame ;  he'll  only  have  to  watch  the 
others,  and  do  as  they  do.  Besides,  we'll  draft  him  into  the 
cavalry :  it  is  really  the  charger  that  obeys  the  signals,  not  the 
trooper.  It  will  be  an  advantage  to  him  to  be  deaf  in  the 
barrack-room,  for  there  are  many  things  said  there  that 
would  bring  a  blush  to  his  nice  innocent  cheeks  ;  and,  upon 
the  whole,  it  is  best  he  should  not  hear  them.  I  have  the 
honour  to  wish  you  good  morning,  madame." 

And  though  the  woman  knew  that  the  old  soldier  was 
mercilessly  chaffing  her  and  her  milksop  son,  the  thing  was 
done  so  politely  and  so  apparently  seriously  on  the  marshal's 
part,  that  she  was  fain  to  take  no  for  an  answer. 

On  one  occasion,  it  appears — for  the  marshal  liked  to  tell 
these  tales,  and  he  was  not  a  bad  mimic — he  had  just  dis- 
missed a  lady  similarly  afflicted  with  a  deaf  son,  when  an- 
other entered  whose  offspring  suffered  from  an  impediment 
in  his  speech.  "  Madame,"  the  marshal  said,  without  mov- 
ing a  muscle,  "  your  son  will  realize  the  type  of  the  soldier 
immortalized  by  M  Scribe  in  '  Les  Huguenots.'  You  know 
what  Marcel  sings."  And,  striking  a  theatrical  attitude,  he 
trolled — 

" '  Un  vieux  soldat  sait  souffrir  et  se  taire 
Sans  murmurer.' 

With  this  additional  advantage,"  he  went  on,  "  that  your 
son  will  be  a  young  one.  I  can,  however,  promise  you  an- 
other comfort.  A  lady  has  just  left  me  whose  son  is  as  deaf 
as  a  post.  I'll  not  only  see  that  your  son  is  drafted  into  the 
sanie  company,  but  I'll  make  it  my  special  business  to  have 
their  beds  placed  side  by  side.  The  young  fellow  can  go  on 
stammering  as  long  as  he  likes,  it  won't  offend  his  comrade's 
hearing." 

"  But  my  son  is  very  short-sighted,  as  blind  as  a  bat,  your, 
excellency ;  he  won't  be  able  to  distinguish  the  friend  from 
the  foe,"  exposti^lated  a  third  lady. 

"  Don't  let  that  trouble  you,  madame,"  was  the  answer ; 
"we'll  put  him  in  the  infantry:  he  has  only  got  to  blaze 
away,  he  is  sure  to  hit  some  one  or  something." 

These  were  the  scenes  when  the  marshal  was  in  an  amia- 
ble mood;  when  he  was  not,  he  would  scarcely  suffer  the 
slightest  remark ;  but,  if  the  remark  was  ventured  upon,  it 
had  to  be  effectual,  to  be  couched  in  language  as  abrupt  as 
his.     "  Soft-sawder  "  he  hated  above  all  things ;  and  even 


VAILLANT  AT  HIS  BEST.  359 

when  he  was  wrong,  he  would  not  admit  it  to  any  one  Avho 
whined  or  spoke  prettily.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the  vis- 
itor or  petitioner  became  as  violent  as  he  was  himself,  he 
often  reversed  his  decision.  One  day,  while  waiting  for  the 
marshal,  I  met  in  the  anteroom  an  individual  who,  by  his 
surly  looks,  was  far  from  pleased.  After  striding  up  and 
down  for  a  while,  he  began  to  bang  on  the  table,  and  to 
shout  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  calling  the  old  soldier  all  kinds 
of  names.  Out  came  the  marshal  in  his  shirt-sleeves — the 
moment  the  lady-visitors  were  gone  he  always  took  off  his 
coat.  "  Come  back,  monsieur,"  he  said  to  the  individual. 
In  a  few  moments,  the  latter  came  out  of  the  marshal's  pri- 
vate room,  his  face  beaming  with  joy.  Then  I  went  in,  and 
found  the  marshal  rubbing  his  hands  with  glee.  "  A  capital 
fellow,  after  all,  a  capital  fellow,"  he  kept  on  saying. 

"  He  may  be  a  capital  fellow,"  I  remarked,  "  but  he  is  not 
very  choice  in  his  language." 

"  That's  only  his  w^ay ;  he  does  not  like  to  be  refused 
things,  but  he  is  a  capital  fellow  for  all  that,  and  that's  why 
I  granted  his  request.  If  he  had  whined  about  it,  I  should 
not  have  done  so,  though  I  think  he  is  entitled  to  what  he 
came  for." 

Strategical  skill,  in  the  sense  the  Germans  have  taught  us 
since  to  attach  to  the  word,  Marshal  Vaillant  had  little  or 
none.  Most  of  his  contemporaries,  even  the  younger  gen- 
erals, were  scarcely  better  endowed  than  their  official  chief. 
They  were  all  good  soldiers  when  it  came  to  straightforward 
fighting,  as  they  had  been  obliged  to  do  in  Africa,  but  there 
was  not  a  great  leader,  scarcely  an  ordinary  tactician,  among 
them.  As  I  have  already  shown,  among  the  men  most  pain- 
fully aware  of  this  was  the  marshal  himself ;  nevertheless, 
when  he  once  made  up  his  mind  to  a  course  of  action,  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  dissuade  him  from  it.  He  had  set  his 
heart  upon  ^larshal  Niel  occupying  the  Aland  island  during 
the  winter  of  '54-55,  in  the  event  of  Bomarsund  falling  into 
French  hands.  He  did  not  for  a  moment  consider  that  the 
fourteen  thousand  troops  were  too  few  to  hold  it,  if  the  Rus- 
sians cared  to  contest  its  possession, — too  many,  if  they  mere- 
ly confined  themselves  to  intercepting  the  supplies,  which 
they  could  have  done  without  much  difficulty.  A  clever 
young  diplomatist,  Avho  knew  more  about  those  parts  than 
the  whole  of  the  intelligence  department  at  the  Ministry  for 
War,  at  last  made  him  abandon  his  decision.     I  came  in  as 


3G0  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

he  went  out;  the  marshal  was  as  surly  as  a  bear  with  a  sore 
head.  "  Clever  fellow  this,"  he  growled,  "  very  clever  fel- 
low." And  then,  in  short  jerky  sentences,  he  told  me  the 
whole  of  the  story,  asking  my  opinion  as  to  who  was  right 
and  who  was  wrong.  I  told  him  frankly  that  I  thought  that 
the  young  diplomatist  was  right.     "  That's  what  I  think," 

he  spluttered ;  "  but  you'll  admit  that  it  is  d d  annoying 

to  be  wrong." 

It  would  be  wrong  to  infer  that  the  marshal,  though  defi- 
cient as  a  strategist,  was  the  rough-and-ready  soldier,  indif- 
ferent to  more  cultured  pursuits,  as  so  many  of  his  fel- 
low-officers were.  He  was  very  fond  of  certain  branches  of 
science,  and  rarely  missed  a  meeting  of  the  scientific  section 
of  the  Academic,  of  which  he  was  a  member.  What  at- 
tracted him  most,  however,  was  astronomy ;  next  to  that 
came  entomology  and  botany.  Still,  though  an  enthusiast, 
and  often  risking  a  cold  to  observe  an  astral  phenomenon,  he 
objected  to  wasting  thousands  of  pounds  for  a  similar  pur- 
pose ;  in  fact,  when  it  came  to  disbursing  government  money 
for  a  scientific  or  other  vaguely  defined  purpose,  his  economic 
tendencies  got  the  better  of  him.  "  I  am  a  very  interesting 
scientific  phenomenon  myself,"  he  used  to  say, "  or,  at  any  rate, 
I  was ;  and  yet  no  one  spent  any  money  to  come  and  see  me." 

He  was  alluding  to  a  fact  which  he  often  told  me  him- 
self, and  afterwards  narrated  in  his  "  memoirs." 

"  For  a  long  while,  especially  from  1818  to  1830,  when 
the  weather  happened  to  be  very  dry  and  cold,  and  when  I 
returned  to  my  grateless,  humble  room,  after  having  spent 
the  day  in  heated  apartments,  I  was  both  the  spectator  and 
the  medium  of  strange  electrical  phenomena. 

"  The  moment  I  had  undressed  and  stood  in  my  shirt, 
the  latter  began  to  crackle  and  became  absolutely  luminous, 
emitting  a  lot  of  sparks ;  the  tails  stuck  together,  and  re- 
mained like  that  for  some  time." 

I  asked  him,  on  one  occasion,  whether  he  had  ever  com- 
municated all  this  to  scientific  authorities.  His  answer, 
though  not  a  direct  one  to  my  question,  was  not  only  very 
characteristic  of  the  mental  and  moral  attitude  of  the  sol- 
diers of  the  Empire  towards  the  Bourbons,  but,  to  a  great 
extent,  of  the  attitude  of  the  Bourbons  themselves  towards 
everybody  and  everything  that  was  not  absolutely  in  accord- 
ance with  the  policy,  sociology,  and  religious  tenets  of  their 
adherents,  whether  laymen  or  priests. 


VAILLANT  ON  THE  LATER  BOURBONS.  ZQl 

"You  must  remember,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  replied,  "the 
regime  under  which  we  lived  when  I  was  subject  to  those 
electrical  manifestations;  you  must  further  remember  that 
I  had  fought  at  Ligny  and  at  Waterloo,  and,  though  not  ab- 
solutely put  on  the  retired  list  in  1815,  I  and  the  rest  of  the 
Emperor's  soldiers  were  watched,  and  our  most  innocent  acts 
construed  into  so  many  small  attempts  at  conspiracy.  You 
have  not  the  slightest  idea  what  the  police  were  like  under 
the  Eestauration,  let  alone  the  priesthood.  If  I  couple  these 
two,  I  am  not  speaking  at  random.  If  I  had  communicated 
the  things  I  told  you  of,  to  no  matter  what  savant,  he  would 
necessarily  have  published  the  result  of  his  observations  and 
experiments,  and  do  you  know  what  would  have  happened  ? 
I  should  have  been  tried,  and  perhaps  condemned,  for  witch- 
craft— yes,  for  witchcraft, — or  else  I  should  have  been  taken 
hold  of  by  the  priests,  not  as  a  scientific  phenomenon,  but  as 
a  religious  one,  a  kind  of  stigmatise.  They  would  have 
made  it  out  to  their  satisfaction  that  I  was  either  half  a 
saint,  or  a  whole  devil,  and  in  either  case  my  life  would 
have  become  a  burden  to  me.  Only  those  who  have  lived 
under  the  Bourbons  can  form  an  idea  of  the  terrorizing 
to  which  they  lent  themselves.  People  may  tell  you  that 
they  were  kind  and  charitable,  and  this,  that,  and  the  other. 
There  never  were  greater  tyrants  than  they  were  at  heart ; 
and  if  the  Duo  d'Angouleme  or  the  Comte  de  Chambord 
had  come  to  the  throne,  France  would  have  sunk  to  the 
intellectual  level  of  Spain.  I  would  sooner  see  the  most 
godless  republic  than  a  return  of  that  state  of  things,  and  I 
need  not  tell  you  that  I  firmly  believe  that  not  a  sparrow 
falls  to  the  earth  without  Grod's  will.  No,  I  held  my  tongue 
about  my  electrical  sensations ;  if  I  had  not,  you  would  not 
now  be  talking  to  Marshal  Vaillant — I  should  have  become  a 
jabbering  idiot,  if  I  had  lived  long  enough."  It  is  the 
longest  speech  I  have  ever  heard  the  marshal  make. 

The  marshal's  own  rooms  were  simply  crammed  with 
cases  full  of  beetles,  butterflies,  etc.  The  space  not  taken 
up  by  these  was  devoted  to  herbariums ;  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  most  interesting  conversation — interesting  to  the 
listener  especially,  for  the  old  soldier  was  an  inexhaustible 
mine  of  anecdote — he,  the  listener,  would  be  invited  to  look 
at  a  bit  of  withered  grass  or  a  wriggling  caterpillar. 

After  the  Franco-Austrian  war,  there  was  an  addition 
to  the  marshal's  household — I  might  say  family,  for  the  old 

16 


362  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

man  became  as  fond  of  Brusca  as  if  she  had  been  a  human 
being.  The  story  went  that  she  had  been  bequeathed  to 
him  at  Solf erino  by  her  former  master,  an  Austrian  general ; 
and  the  marshal  did  not  deny  it.  At  any  rate,  he  found 
Brusca  sitting  by  the  dying  man,  and  licking  the  blood 
oozing  from  his  wounds. 

Brusca  was  not  much  to  look  at,  and  you  might  safely 
have  defied  a  committee  of  the  most  eminent  authorities  on 
canine  breeds  to  determine  hers,  but  she  was  very  intelligent, 
and  of  a  most  affectionate  disposition.  Nevertheless,  she 
was  always  more  or  less  distant  with  civilians :  it  took  me 
many  years  to  worm  myself  into  her  good  graces,  and  I  am 
almost  certain  that  I  was  the  only  peJcin  thus  favoured.  The 
very  word  made  her  prick  up  her  ears,  show  her  teeth,  and 
straighten  her  tail  as  far  as  she  could.  For  the  appendage 
did  not  lend  itself  readily  to  the  effort ;  it  was  in  texture  like 
that  of  a  coUey  or  Pomeranian,  and  twisted  like  that  of  a 
pug.  Curiously  enough,  her  objection  to  civilians  did  not 
extend  to  the  female  portion,  but  the  sight  of  a  blouse  drove 
her  frantic  with  rage.  On  such  occasions,  she  had  to  be 
chained  up.  As  a  rule,  however,  Brusca's  manifestations, 
whether  of  pleasure  or  the  reverse,  were  uttered  in  a  minor 
key  and  unaccompanied  by  any  change  of  position  on  her 
part.  She  mostly  lay  at  the  marshal's  feet,  if  she  was  not 
perched  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  for  Brusca  was  not  a  large 
dog.  She  accompanied  the  marshal  in  his  walks  and  drives, 
she  sat  by  his  side  at  table,  she  slept  on  a  rug  at  the  foot  of 
his  bed.  Now  and  then  she  took  a  gentle  stroll  through  the 
apartment,  carefully  examining  the  dried  plants  and  beetles. 
But  one  day,  or  rather  one  evening,  there  was  a  complete 
change  in  her  behaviour :  it  was  at  one  of  the  marshal's 
receptions,  on  the  occasion  of  Emperor  Francis- Joseph's  visit 
to  Paris.  Some  of  the  officers  of  his  Majesty's  suite  had 
been  invited,  and  at  the  sight  of  the,  to  her,  once  familiar 
uniforms  her  delight  knew  no  bounds.  She  was  standing  at 
the  top  of  the  landing  when  she  caught  sight  of  them,  and 
all  those  present  thought  for  a  moment  that  the  creature 
was  going  mad.  As  a  matter  of  course,  Brusca  was  not 
allowed  to  come  into  the  reception-rooms,  but  on  that  night 
there  was  no  keeping  her  out.  Locked  up  in  the  marshal's 
bed-room,  she  made  the  place  ring  with  her  barks  and  yells, 
and  they  had  to  let  her  out.  With  one  bound  she  was  in  the 
drawing-rooms,  and  for  three  hours  she  did  not  leave  the  side 


VAILLANT  AND  HIS  DOG.  363 

of  the  Austrian  officers.  When  they  took  their  departure, 
Brusca  was  perfectly  ready,  nay  eager,  to  abandon  her  home 
and  her  fond  master  for  their  sake,  and  had  to  be  forcibly 
prevented  from  doing  so.  The  marshal  did  not  know 
whether  to  cry  or  to  laugh,  but  in  the  end  he  felt  ready  to 
forgive  Brusca  for  her  contemplated  desertion  of  him  in 
favour  of  her  countrymen.  Some  one  who  objected  to  the 
term  got  the  snub  direct.  "Je  maintiens  ce  que  j'ai  dit, 
compatriotes ;  et  je  serais  rudement  fier  d'avoir  une  com- 
patriote  comme  elle." 

If  possible,  Brusca  from  that  moment  rose  in  the  mar- 
shal's estimation ;  she  was  a  perfect  paragon.  "  Cette  chi- 
enne  n'a  pas  seulement  toutes  les  qnalites  de  son  genre,  elle 
n'a  m^me  pas  les  vices  de  son  sexe.  Elle  m'aime  tellement 
bien  qu'elle  ne  veut  ^tre  distraite  par  aucun  autre  amour. 
Elle  vit  dans  le  plus  rigoureux  celibat.  La  malheureuse," 
he  said  every  now  and  then,  "elle  a  failli  se  compro- 
mettre." 

In  spite  of  the  marshal's  boast  about  Brusca's  morals,  he 
was  one  day  compelled  to  admit  a  faux  pas  on  her  part,  and 
for  some  weeks  the  "  vet "  had  an  anxious  time  for  it.  "  Elle 
a  mal  tourne,  mais  que  voulez-vous,  je  ne  vais  pas  I'abandon- 
ner."  And  when  the  crisis  was  over :  "  Son  incartade  ne 
lui  a  pas  porte  bonheur.  Esperons  que  la  le9on  lui  pro- 
fitera." 

Brusca  had  her  portrait  painted  by  the  "  Michael-Angelo 
of  dogs,"  Jadin,  and  when  it  was  finished  the  visitors  were 
given  an  opportunity  of  admiring  it  in  the  drawing-room, 
where  it  was  on  view  for  several  consecutive  Tuesdays. 
After  that,  a  great  many  of  the  marshal's  familiars,  supposed 
to  be  capable  of  doing  justice  to  Brusca's  character  in  verse, 
were  appealed  to,  to  write  her  panegyric,  but  though  several 
Academicians  tried  their  hands,  their  lucubrations  were  not 
deemed  worthy  to  be  inscribed  on  the  frame  of  Brusca's  por- 
trait, albeit  that  one  or  two — the  first  in  Greek — were  en- 
grossed on  vellum,  and  adorned  the  drawing-room  table. 
The  effusion  that  did  eventually  adorn  the  frame  was  by  an 
anonymous  author — it  was  shrewdly  suspected  that  it  was  by 
the  marshal  himself,  and  ran  as  follows : — 

"  Si  je  suis  pres  de  lui,  c'est  que  je  le  merite. 
Revez  mon  sort  brilliant ;  revez,  ambitieux  ! 
Du  bien  de  mon  raaitre  en  ami  je  profile, 
J'aimerais  son  pain  nor  s'il  etait  malheureux." 


36 i  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Another  peculiarity  of  Marshal  Vaillant  was  never  to  ac- 
cept a  letter  not  prepaid  or  insufficiently  paid.  The  rule 
was  so  strictly  enforced,  both  in  his  private  and  official  ca- 
pacity, that  many  a  valuable  report  was  ruthlessly  refused, 
and  had  to  be  traced  afterwards  through  the  various  post- 
offices  of  Europe. 

Seven  times  out  of  ten  the  marshal,  when  travelling  by 
himself,  missed  his  train.  This  would  lead  one  to  infer  that 
he  was  unpunctual;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  the  spirit  of 
punctuality.  Unfortunately,  he  over-did  the  thing.  He 
generally  reached  the  station  half  an  hour  or  three-quarters 
before  the  time,  seated  himself  down  in  a  corner,  dozed  off, 
and  did  not  wake  up  until  it  was  too  late.  The  marshal  was 
a  native  of  Dyon ;  and  at  Nuits,  situated  between  the  former 
town  and  Beaune,  there  lived  a  middle-aged  spinster  cousin 
whom  he  often  went  to  visit.  He  nearly  always  returned  by 
the  last  train  to  Dyon,  where  he  had  his  quarters  at  the 
Hotel  de  la  Cloche ;  and  although  often  in  the  midst  of  a 
pleasant  family  party,  insisted  upon  leaving  long  before  it 
was  necessary.  As  a  matter  of  course,  the  station  was  in 
semi-darkness — for  Nuits  is  not  a  large  place — and  the  book- 
ing-office was  not  open.  One  night,  it  being  very  warm,  he 
stretched  himself  leisurely  on  a  grass  plot,  instead  of  on  the 
hard  seat,  and  there  he  was  found  at  six  in  the  morning ; 
several  trains  had  come  and  gone,  but  no  one  had  dared  to 
wake  him.  "  Mais,  monsieur  le  marechal,  on  aurait  cru  vous 
manquer  de  respect  en  vous  eveillant.  Apres  tout,  vous 
n'etes  pas  tout  le  monde,  il  y  des  distinctions,"  said  the  sta- 
tionmaster  apologetically.  "La  mort  et  le  sommeil,  mon- 
sieur," was  the  answer,  "  font  table  rase  de  toute  distinction." 
It  was  a  French  version  of  our  "  Death  levels  all :  "  the  mar- 
shal was  fond  of  paraphrasing  quotations,  especially  from  the 
English,  of  which  he  had  a  very  fair  knowledge,  having 
translated  some  military  works  many  years  before.  How- 
ever, from  that  day  forth,  instructions  were  given  to  take  no 
heed  of  his  rank,  and  to  awaken  him  like  any  other  mortal, 
rather  than  have  him  miss  his  train. 

In  fact,  the  marshal  did  not  like  to  be  constantly  remind- 
ed of  his  rank  ;  if  anything,  he  was  rather  proud  of  his  very 
humble  origin,  and,  instead  of  hiding  his  pedigree  like  a  good 
many  parvenus,  he  took  delight  in  publishing  it.  I  have 
seen  a  letter  of  his  to  some  one  who  inquired  on  the  subject, 
not  from  sheer  curiosity.    "  My  grandfather  was  a  silkmercer 


VAILLANT  FINDS  HIS  MATCH.  355 

in  a  small  way  on  the  place  St.  Vincent,  at  Dyon.  His 
father  had  been  a  coppersmith.  I  am  unable  to  trace  back 
further  than  that ;  my  quarters  of  nobility  stop  there.  Let 
me  add,  at  the  same  time,  that  there  is  no  more  silly  proverb 
than  the  one  '  Like  father  like  son.'  My  father  died  poor, 
and  respected  by  every  one.  I  do  not  believe  that  he  had  a 
single  enemy.  His  friends  called  him  Christ,  he  was  so  good 
and  kind  to  everybody.  I  am  not  the  least  like  him.  He 
was  short  and  slim,  I  am  rather  tall  and  stout ;  he  was  gen- 
tle, and  people  say  that  I  am  abrupt  and  harsh.  In  short,  he 
had  as  many  virtues  as  I  am  supposed  to  have  faults,  and  I 
am  afraid  the  world  is  not  at  all  mistaken  in  that  respect." 

I,  who  knew  him  as  well  as  most  people,  am  afraid  that 
the  world  was  very  much  mistaken.  As  a  matter  of  course, 
the  old  soldier  had  many  faults,  but  his  good  qualities  far 
outweighed  the  latter.  He  was  modest  to  a  degree,  and  the 
flatteries  to  which  men  in  his  position  are  naturally  exposed 
produced  not  the  sliglitest  effect  upon  him.  When  in  an 
amiable  mood,  he  used  to  cut  them  short  with  a  "  Oui,  oui ; 
le  marechal  Vaillant  est  un  grand  homme,  il  n'y  a  pas  de 
doute  ;  tout  le  monde  est  d'accord  sur  ce  chapitre  la,  done, 
n'en  parlous  plus."  When  not  in  an  amiable  mood,  he 
showed  them  the  door,  saying,  "  Monsieur,  si  je  suis  aussi 
grand  homme  que  vous  le  dites,  je  suis  trop  grand  pour 
m'occuper  de  vos  petites  affaires.  J'ai  I'honneur  de  vous 
saluer." 

He  was  fond  of  his  native  town,  one  of  whose  streets  bore 
or  still  bears  his  name,  though,  according  to  all  authorities, 
it  never  smelt  sweet  by  whatsoever  appellation  it  went.  But 
he  objected  to  being  lionized,  so  he  never  stayed  with  the 
prefect,  the  maire,  or  the  general  commanding  the  district, 
and  simply  took  up  his  quarters  at  the  hotel,  insisting  on  be- 
ing treated  like  any  othei  visitor.  The  maire  respected  his 
wishes ;  the  population  did  not,  which  was  a  sore  point  with 
the  marshal.  Nevertheless,  when,  in  1858,  during  their  Ex- 
hibition, they  wanted  him  to  distribute  the  prizes,  he  con- 
sented to  do  so,  on  condition  that  his  reception  should  be  of 
the  simplest.  The  Dyonnais  promised,  and  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent kept  their  word.  Next  morning  the  prefect,  accompa- 
nied by  the  authorities,  fetched  him  in  his  carriage.  The 
ceremony  was  to  take  place  in  the  park  itself,  and  at  the  en- 
trance was  posted  Greneral  Picard,  accompanied  by  his  staff, 
and  at  the  head  of  several  battalions.     The  moment  the  mar- 


366  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

shal  set  foot  to  the  ground,  the  general  saluted,  the  drums 
rolled,  and  the  bands  plajed.  The  marshal  felt  wroth,  and 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  distribution  sent  for  the  general, 
whom,  not  to  mince  matters,  he  roundly  bullied. 

General  Picard  did  not  interrupt  him.  "  Have  you  fin- 
ished, monsieur  le  marechal  ?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

"  Of  course,  I  have  finished." 

"Very  well;  the  next  time  you  come  out  as  a  simple 
bourgeois,  you  had  better  leave  the  grand  cordon  of  the 
Legion  of  Honour  at  home.  If  I  had  not  saluted  you  as  I 
did,  I  should  have  had  the  reprimand  of  the  minister  of  war, 
and  of  the  chancellor  of  the  Legion  of  Honour.  After  all,  I 
prefer  yours." 

"  But  I  am  the  minister  for  war." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  that.  I  only  saw  an  old  gentle- 
man with  the  grand  cordon.  If  you  are  the  minister  for  war, 
perhaps  you  will  be  good  enough  to  tell  Marechal  Vaillant, 
when  you  see  him,  that  he  must  not  tempt  old  soldiers  like 
myself  to  forget  their  duty." 

"  You  are  right,  general.  But  what  a  hot  fiery  lot  these 
Dyonnais  are,  aren't  they  ?  "  Picard  was  a  native  of  Dyon 
also. 


THE  WAR. 


367 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Franco-Gennan  War — Friday,  July  15, 1870,  6  p.m. — My  friends  "confi- 
dent of  France  being  able  to  chastise  the  insolence  of  the  King  of  Prussia  " 
— I  do  not  share  their  confidence ;  but  do  not  expect  a  crushing  defeat — 
Napoleon  III.'s  presence  aggravated  the  disasters ;  his  absence  would  not 
have  averted  them — He  himself  had  no  illusions  about  the  eificiency  of  the 
army,  did  not  suspect  the  rottenness  of  it — His  previous  endeavours  at  re- 
organization— The  real  drift  of  his  proposed  inquiries — His  plan  meant  also 
compulsory  service  for  every  one — Why  the  legislature  opposed  it — The 
makeshift  proposed  by  it — ^Napoleon  weary,  bocfy  and  soul — His  physical 
condition — A  great  consultation  and  the  upshot  of  it — Dr.  Kicord  and  what 
he  told  me — I  am  determined  to  see  and  hear,  though  not  to  speak — I  sally 
forth — The  streets  on  the  evening  of  Friday,  the  15th  of  July — The  illumi- 
nations— Patriotism  or  Chauvinism — The  announcement  of  a  bookseller — 
What  Moltke  thought  of  it — The  opinion  of  a  dramatist  on  the  war — The 
people ;  no  horse-play — No  work  done  on  Saturday  and  Sunday — Cabmen 
— "  A  man  does  not  pay  for  his  own  funeral,  monsieur " — The  northern 
station  on  Sunday — The  departing  Germans — The  Emperor's  particular 
instructions  with  regard  to  them — Alfred  de  Musset's  "  Knin  Allemand  " — 
Pr6vost-Paradol  and  the  news  of  his  suicide — The  probable  cause  of  it — A 
chat  with  a  superior  officer — The  Emperor's  Sunday  receptions  at  the  Tui- 
leries— Promotions  in  the  army,  upon  what  basis — Good  and  bad  ofi[icers — 
The  officers'  mess  does  not  exist— Another  general  officer  gives  his  opinion 
— Mai'shal  Niel  and  Leboeuf— The  plan  of  campaign  suddenly  altered — The 
reason — The  Emperor  leaves  St.  Cloud — His  confidence  shaken  before  then 
— Some  telegrams  from  the  commanders  of  divisions — Thiers  is  appealed 
to.  to  stem  the  tide  of  retrenchment:  afterwards  to  take  the  portfolio  of  war 
— The  Emperor's  opinion  persistently  disregarded  at  the  Tuileries — Trochu 
— The  dancing  colonels  at  the  Tuileries. 

After  the  lapse  of  thirteen  years,  it  is  difficult  to  put  the 
exact  hour  and  date  to  each  exciting  incident  of  a  period 
which  was  absolutely  phenomenal  throughout.  I  kept  no 
diary,  only  a  few  rough  notes,  because  at  that  time  I  never 
thought  of  committing  my  recollections  to  paper,  and  have, 
therefore,  to  trust  almost  wholly  to  my  memory ;  neverthe- 
less I  am  positive  as  to  main  facts,  whether  witnessed  by  my- 
self or  communicated  to  me  by  friends  and  acquaintances^ 
I  remember,  for  instance,  that,  immediately  after  the  decla- 
ration of  war,  I  was  warned  by  my  friends  not  to  go  abroad 
more  than  I  could  help,  to  keep  away  as  much  as  possible 
from  crowds.     "  You  are  a  foreigner,"  said  one,  "  and  that 


368  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

will  be  sufficient  for  any  ragamuffin,  who  wants  to  do  you  a 
bad  turn,  to  draw  attention  to  you.  By  the  time  you  have 
satisfactorily  proved  your  nationality  you  will  be  beaten  black 
and  blue,  if  not  worse." 

The  advice  was  given  on  Friday,  the  15  th  of  July,  about 
six  in  the  afternoon ;  that  is,  a  few  hours  after  the  news  of 
the  scenes  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  and  the  Senate  had 
spread,  and  when  the  centre  of  Paris  was  getting  gradually 
congested  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  faubourgs.  My  friends 
were  men  of  culture  and  education,  and  not  at  all  likely  to 
be  carried  away  by  the  delirium  which,  on  that  same  night 
and  for  the  next  week,  converted  Paris  into  one  vast  lunatic 
asylum,  whose  inmates  had  managed  to  throw  off  the  control 
of  their  keepers ;  yet  there  was  not  a  single  civilian  among 
tliem  who  had  a  doubt  about  the  eventual  victory  of  France, 
about  her  ability  "  to  chastise  the  arrogance  of  the  Kiug  of 
Prussia,"  to  put  the  matter  in  their  own  words, 

"  To  try  to  be  wise  after  the  event "  is  a  thing  I  particu- 
larly detest,  but  I  can  honestly  affirm  that  I  did  not  share 
their  confidence,  although  I  did  not  suspect  for  a  moment 
that  the  defeat  would  be  so  crushing  as  it  was.  I  remem- 
bered many  incidents  that  had  happened  during  the  previous 
four  years  of  which  they  seemed  conveniently  oblivious ;  I 
was  also  aware,  perhaps,  of  certain  matters  of  which  they 
were  either  profoundly  ignorant,  or  professed  to  be;  but, 
above  all,  I  took  to  heart  the  advice,  tendered  in  the  shape 
of,  "  You  are  a  foreigner ; "  and  though  I  feared  no  violence 
or  even  verbal  recrimination  on  their  part,  I  chose  to  hold 
my  tongue. 

I  hold  no  brief  for  the  late  Emperor,  but  I  sincerely  be- 
lieve that  he  was  utterly  averse  to  the  war.  I,  moreover,  think 
that  if  he  had  consented  to  remain  in  Paris  or  at  St.  Cloud, 
the  disaster  would  have  happened  all  the  same.  He  had  no 
illusions  about  the  efficiency  of  his  armies,  though  he  may 
not  have  been  cognizant  of  the  thorough  rottenness  of  the 
whole.  But  to  have  said  so  at  any  time,  especially  during 
the  last  four  years,  would  have  been  simply  to  sign  the  death- 
warrant  of  his  dynasty.  He  endeavoured  to  remedy  the  de- 
fects in  a  roundabout  way  as  early  as  October,  ^66,  by  appoint- 
ing a  commission  to  draw  up  a  plan  for  the  reorganization  of 
the  army.  Apparently,  Napoleon  wanted  larger  contingents ; 
in  reality,  he  hoped  that  the  inquiry  would  lay  bare  such  evi- 
dence of  corruption  as  would  justify  him  in  dismissing  several 


THE  EMPEROR  OPPOSED  TO  WAR.  3^9 

of  the  men  surrounding  liim  from  their  high  commands.  But 
both  those  who  only  saw  the  apparent  drift  as  well  as  those 
who  guessed  at  the  real  one  were  equally  determined  in  their 
opposition.  It  was  the  majority  in  the  Legislature  which 
first  uttered  the  cry,  immediately  taken  up  by  the  adversaries 
of  the  regime,  "If  this  bill  becomes  law  there  will  be  an  end 
of  favourable  numbers."  In  fact,  the  bill  meant  compulsory 
service  for  every  one,  and  the  consent  of  the  deputies  to  it 
would  at  once  have  forfeited  their  position  Avith  their  elect- 
ors, especially  with  the  peasantry,  to  whom  to  apply  the 
word  "  patriotism  "  at  any  time  is  tantamount  to  the  vilest 
prostitution  of  it. 

Of  the  makeshift  for  that  law  I  need  say  little  or  nothing. 
Without  a  single  spy  in  France,  without  a  single  attache  in 
the  Eue  de  Lille,  Bismarck  was  enabled  by  that  only  to  de- 
termine beforehand  the  effects  of  one  serious  military  defeat 
on  the  dynasty  of  the  Emperor ;  he  was  enabled  to  calculate 
the  exact  strength  of  the  chain  of  defence  which  would  be 
offered  subsequently.     The  French  army  was  like  the  Scotch 

lad's  porridge,  "  sour,  burnt,  gritty,  cold,  and, it,  there 

was  not  enough  of  it."  It  is  not  underrating  Bismarck's 
genius  to  say  that  a  man  of  far  inferior  abilities  than  he 
would  have  plainly  seen  the  course  to  pursue. 

Was  Napoleon  III.  steeped  in  sucli  crass  ignorance  as  not 
to  have  had  an  inkling  of  all  this  ?  Certainly  not ;  but  he 
was  weary,  body  and  soul,  and,  but  for  his  wife  and  son,  he 
Avould,  perhaps  willingly,  have  abdicated.  He  had  been  suf- 
fering for  years  from  one  of  the  most  excruciating  diseases, 
and  a  fortnight  before  the  declaration  of  war  the  symptoms 
had  become  so  alarming  that  a  great  consultation  was  held 
between  MM.  N elaton,  Eicord,  Fauvel,  G.  See,  and  Corvisart. 
The  result  was  the  unanimous  conclusion  of  those  eminent 
medical  men  that  an  immediate  operation  was  absolutely 
necessary.  Curiously  enough,  however,  the  report  embody- 
ing this  "decision  was  only  signed  by  one,  and  not  communi- 
cated to  the  Empress  at  all.  It  may  be  taken  for  granted 
that,  had  she  known  of  her  husband's  condition,  she  would 
not  have  agitated  in  favour  of  the  war,  as  she  undoubtedly 
did. 

It  was  only  after  the  Emperor's  death  at  Chislehurst  that 
the  document  in  question  was  found,  but  I  happened  to  know 
Dr.  Eicord  intimately,  and  most  of  the  facts,  besides  those 
stated  above,  were  known  to  me  on  that  memorable  Friday, 


370  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  15th  of  July,  1870.    As  I  have  said  ah-eady,  I  thought  it 
wiser  to  hold  my  tongue.  .        .,    .  ., 

But  though  determined  not  to  s^eaA;— knowing  that  it 
would  do  no  earthly  good— I  was  equally  determined  to  see 
and  to  hear;  so,  at  about  eight,  I  sallied  forth.  The  heat 
was  positively  stifling,  and  it  was  still  daylight,  but,  in  their 
eagerness  to  show  their  joy,  the  Parisians  would  not  wait  for 
darkness  to  set  in,  and,  as  I  went  along,  I  saw  several  matrons 
of  the  better  classes,  aided  by  their  maids,  make  preparations 
on  the  balcony  for  illuminating  the  moment  the  last  rays  of 
the  sun  should  set  behind  the  horizon.  I  distinctly  say  ma- 
trons of  the  better  classes,  because  my  way  lay  through  the 
Chauss^e  d'Antin,  where  the  tenancy  of  an  apartment  on  the 
first,  second,  or  third  floor  implied  a  more  than  average  in- 
come. I  was,  and  am,  aware  that  neither  refinement  nor  good 
sense  should  be  measured  by  the  money  at  one's  command, 
but  under  similar  circumstances  it  is  impossible  to  apply  any 
other  valid  test.  In  the  streets  there  was  one  closely  wedged- 
in,  seething  mass,  and  the  noise  was  deafening ;  nevertheless, 
at  the  sight  of  one  of  those  matrons  thus  engaged  there  was 
a  momentary  lull,  followed  immediately  by  vociferous  applause 
and  the  cry  of  "  Les  meres  de  la  patrie."  From  a  cursory 
glance  upward,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  progeny  of 
these  ladies,  if  they  were  blessed  with  any,  could  as  yet  con- 
tribute but  very  little  to  the  glory  of  the  nation ;  still,  I  re- 
flected, at  the  same  time,  that  they  had  probably  brothers  and 
husbands  who,  within  a  few  hours,  might  be  called  to  the 
front,  "  nevermore  to  return ; "  that,  therefore,  the  outburst 
of  patriotism  could  not  be  called  an  altogether  cheap  one. 
In  fact,  none  but  the  thoroughly  irreclaimable  sceptic  could 
fail  to  be  struck  with  the  genuine  outburst  of  national  resent- 
ment against  a  whole  nation  on  the  part  of  another  nation, 
which,  as  I  take  it,  means  something  different  from  unalloyed 
patriotism.  It  was  a  mixture  of  hatred  and  chauvinism,  rather 
than  the  latter  and  more  elevated  sentiment.  The  "  sacred 
soil  of  France " — though  why  more  sacred  than  any  other 
soil,  I  have  never  been  able  to  make  out — was  not  threatened 
in  this  instance  by  Prussia ;  carefully  considered,  it  was  not 
even  a  question  of  national  honour  offended  for  which  Paris 
professed  itself  ready  as  one  man  to  draw  the  sword,  and  yet 
the  thousands  in  the  street  that  night  behaved  as  if  each  of 
them  had  a  personal  quarrel  to  settle,  not  with  one  or  two 
Germans,  but  with  every  son  and  daughter  of  the  Fatherland. 


THE  STREETS  ON  FRIDAY  NIGHT,  JULY  15.      37I 

It  was,  perhaps,  a  quarter  after  eight  when  I  found  myself 
in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin,  and  the  distance  to  the  Boulevard 
des  Italiens  was  certainly  not  more  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty  yards ;  nevertheless,  it  took  me  more  than  half  an  hour 
to  get  over  it,  for  immediately  on  my  emerging  into  the  main 
thoroughfare  I  looked  at  a  clock  which  pointed  to  nine.  Two 
things  stand  out  vividly  in  my  memory :  the  first,  the  prepa- 
rations of  several  business  houses  to  illuminate  on  a  grand 
scale,  there  and  then ;  i.e.  the  putting  up  of  the  elaborate 
crystal  devices  used  by  them  on  the  15th  of  August,  the  Em- 
peror's fete-day.  It  was  exactly  a  month  before  that  date, 
and  a  neighbour  of  an  enthusiastic  tradesman  remarked  upon 
the  fact.  "  I  know,"  was  the  answer ;  "  I'll  leave  it  there  till 
the  14th  of  next  month,  and  then  I'll  add  two  bigger  ones  to 
it."  On  the  day  proposed,  not  only  were  there  none  added, 
but  the  original  one  had  also  disappeared,  for  by  that  time 
the  Second  Empire  was  virtually  in  the  throes  of  death.  The 
second  thing  I  remember  was  the  enormous  strip  of  calico 
outside  a  bookseller's  shop,  with  the  announcement,  "  Dic- 
tionnaire  Frangais-AUemand  a  I'usage  des  Fran9ais  a  Berlin." 
In  less  than  two  months  I  read  the  following ;  it  was  an  ex- 
tract from  the  interview  between  Bismarck  and  Moltke  on 
the  one  side  and  General  de  Wimpffen  on  the  other,  on  the 
eve  of  the  capitulation  of  Sedan :  "  You  do  not  know  the 
topography  of  the  environs  of  Sedan,"  replied  General  von 
Moltke ;  "  and,  seeing  that  we  are  on  the  subject,  let  me  give 
you  a  small  instance  which  thoroughly  shows  the  presump- 
tion, the  want  of  method,  of  your  nation.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  campaign,  you  provided  your  ofiicers  with  maps  of 
Germany,  when  they  utterly  lacked  the  means  of  studying 
the  geography  of  their  own  country,  seeing  that  you  had  no 
maps  of  your  own  territory."  I  could  not  help  thinking  of 
the  bookseller,  and  wondering  how  many  dictionaries  he  sold 
during  those  first  few  days. 

I  did  not  get  very  far  that  night,  only  as  far  as  the  Maison 
d'Or,  where  I  was  perforce  obliged  to  stop  and  look  on.  1 
stood  for  nearly  an  hour  and  a  half,  for  there  was  no  possi- 
bility of  getting  a  seat,  and  during  that  time  I  only  heard  one 
opinion  adverse  to  the  war.  It  was  that  of  a  justly  celebrated 
dramatist,  who  is  by  no  means  hostile  to  either  the  Emperor 
or  the  Empire,  albeit  that  he  had  declined  several  years  ago 
to  be  presented  to.  Napoleon  when  Princess  Mathilde  offered 
him  to  do  so.     He  positively  hates  the  Germans,  but  his  hatred 


372  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

did  not  blind  him  to  their  great  intellectual  qualities  and  to 
their  powers  of  organization.  "  It  is  all  very  fine  to  shout 
*  A  Berlin  ! ' "  he  said ;  "  and  it  is  very  probable  that  some  of 
these  bellowers  (braillards)  will  get  there,  though  not  in  the 
order  of  procession  they  expect ;  they  will  be  in  front,  and 
the  Germans  at  their  backs."  He  spoke  very  low,  and  begged 
me  not  to  repeat  what  he  had  said.  "  If  I  am  mistaken,  I  do 
not  want  to  be  twitted  with  having  thrown  cold  water  on  the 
martial  ardour  of  my  countrymen ;  if  I  am  right,  I  will  will- 
ingly forego  the  honour  of  having  prophesied  the  humilia- 
tion of  my  countrymen."  That  is  why  I  suppress  his  name 
here,  but  I  have  often  thought  of  his  words  since ;  and  when 
people.  Englishmen  especially,  have  accused  him  of  having 
contributed  to  the  corruption  of  the  Second  Empire  by  his 
stage  works,  I  have  smiled  to  myself.  With  the  exception  of 
one,  he  has  never  written  a  play  that  did  not  teach  a  valuable 
moral  lesson  ;  but  he  is  an  excellent  husband,  father,  and  son, 
though  he  is  perhaps  not  over  generous  with  his  money. 

I  am  bound  to  say  that,  though  the  noise  on  the  Boulevards 
was  terrific,  and  the  crowds  the  densest  I  have  ever  seen  in 
Paris  or  anywhere,  they  refrained  from  that  horse-play  so  ob- 
jectionable in  England  under  similar  circumstances.  Of  course 
there  were  exceptions ;  such  as,  for  instance,  the  demonstra- 
tion at  the  Prussian  Embassy :  but,  in  the  main,  the  behav- 
iour was  orderly  throughout.  I  do  not  know  what  might 
have  been  the  result  of  any  foreigners — German  or  otherwise 
— showing  themselves  conspicuously,  but  they  were  either  al- 
together absent,  or  else  concealed  their  nationality  as  much 
as  possible  by  keeping  commendably  silent. 

Nevertheless,  the  f*arisian  shopkeeper,  who  is  the  most 
arrant  coward  on  the  face  of  the  earth  where  a  crowd  is  con- 
cerned, put  up  his  shutters  during  the  whole  of  Saturday  and 
Sunday,  except  those  who  professed  for  cater  for  the  inner  man. 
I  doubt  whether,  on  the  first-named  day,  there  was  a  single 
stroke  of  work  done  by  the  three  or  four  hundred  thousand 
of  Parisian  artisans.  I  exclude  cabmen,  railway  porters,  and 
the  like.  They  had  their  hands  full,  because  the  exodus  be- 
gan before  the  war  news  was  four  and  twenty  hours  old.  Our 
own  countrymen  seemed  in  the  greatest  hurry  to  put  the 
Channel  between  themselves  and  France.  If  the  enemy  had 
been  already  at  the  gates  of  Paris  their  retreat  could  have 
been  scarcely  more  sudden.  The  words  "  bouches  inutiles  " 
had  as  yet  not  been  pronounced  or  invented  ofiicially ;  but  I 


"BOUCHES  INUTILES."  373 

have  a  notion  that  a  cabman  suggested  them  first,  in  a  con- 
versation with  a  brother  Jehu.  "  Voila  des  bouches  utiles 
qui  s'en  vont,  mon  vieux,"  he  said,  while  waiting  on  the  Place 
Vendome  to  take  passengers  to  the  railway.  Until  then  I  had 
never  heard  the  word  used  in  that  sense. 

Apropos  of  cabmen,  I  heard  a  story  that  day  for  the  truth 
of  which  I  will,  however,  not  vouch.  There  was  a  cab-stand 
near  the  Prussian  Embassy,  and  most  of  the  drivers  knew 
every  one  of  the  attaches,  the  latter  being  frequent  customers. 
On  the  Saturday  morning,  a  cab  was  called  from  the  rank  to 
take  a  young  attache  to  the  eastern  railway  station.  He  was 
going  to  join  his  regiment.  On  alighting  from  the  cab,  the 
attache  was  about  to  pay  his  fare;  the  driver  refused  the 
money.  "  A  man  does  not  pay  for  his  own  funeral,  monsieur ; 
and  you  may  take  it  that  I  have  performed  that  office  for  you. 
Adieu,  monsieur."  With  that  he  drove  oif.  True  or  not,  the 
mere  invention  of  the  tale  would  prove  that,  at  any  rate,  the 
lower  middle  classes  were  cocksure  of  the  utter  annihilation 
of  the  Germans. 

I  happened  to  have  occasion  to  go  to  the  northern  station 
on  the  Sunday,  to  see  some  one  off  by  the  mail.  That  large, 
cold,  bare  hall,  which  does  duty  as  a  waiting-room,  was  crowd- 
ed, and  a  number  of  young  Germans  were  among  the  passen- 
gers ;  respectable,  stalwart  fellows  who,  to  judge  by  their  dress, 
had  occupied  good  commercial  positions  in  the  French  capi- 
tal. Most  of  them  were  accompanied  by  friends  or  relations. 
They  seemed  by  no  means  elated  at  the  prospect  before  them, 
and  scarcely  spoke  to  one  another.  As  a  matter  of  course, 
they  were  scattered  all  over  the  place,  in  groups  of  three  and 
four.  I  noticed  that  there  was  an  exceedingly  strong  con- 
tingent of  sergents  de  ville,  and  several  couples  of  officiers  de 
paix — what  in  England  we  should  call  superintendents  of  po- 
lice. The  latter  had  evidently  received  particular  instruc- 
tions, for  they  had  posted,  as  much  as  possible,  a  sergent  de 
ville  close  to  every  group.  At  first  I  mistook  the  drift  of  the 
supervision,  but  it  was  soon  explained  to  me  when  one  of  the 
officiers  de  paix  came  up  to  a  group  somewhat  larger  than  the 
others.  "  Messieurs,"  he  said  very  politely,  "  vous  ^tes  Alle- 
mands,  et  je  vous  prierai  de  vous  mettre  ensemble,  afin  de 
pouvoir  vous  proteger,  s'il  y  a  besoin."  I  heard  afterwards 
that,  amidst  all  his  weighty  occupations,  the  Emperor  him- 
self had  given  orders  to  have  the  Germans  especially  protect- 
ed, as  he  feared  some  violence  on  the  part  of  the  Parisians. 


374  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

During  the  next  week  the  excitement  did  not  abate,  but, 
save  for  some  minor  incidents,  it  was  the  same  thing  over  and 
over  again :  impromptu  processions  along  the  main  thorough- 
fares to  the  singing  of  the  "  Marseillaise  "  and  the  "  Chant 
du  Depart,"  until  the  crowds  had  got  by  heart  Alfred  de 
Musset's  "  Ehin  Allemand,"  of  which,  until  then,  not  one  in 
a  thousand  had  ever  heard. 

Meanwhile  the  news  had  spread  of  the  suicide  of  Prevost- 
Paradol,  the  newly  appointed  French  ambassador  at  Wash- 
ington, and  the  republicans  were  trying  to  make  capital  out 
of  it.  According  to  them,  it  was  political  shame  and  re- 
morse at  having  deserted  his  colours,  despair  at  the  turn 
events  were  taking,  that  prompted  the  step.  These  false- 
hoods have  been  repeated  until  they  became  legends  con- 
nected with  the  fall  of  the  Second  Empire.  To  the  majority 
of  Englishmen,  Prevost-Paradol  is  not  even  a  name ;  talented 
as  he  was.  Frenchmen  would  have  scarcely  known  more  about 
him  if  some  politicians,  for  purposes  of  their  own,  had  not 
chosen  to  convert  him  into  a  self-immolated  martyr  to  the 
Imperialist  cause — or,  rather,  to  that  part  of  the  cause  which 
aimed  at  the  recovery  of  the  left  banks  of  the  Ehine.  I  knew 
Prevost-Paradol,  and  he  was  only  distinguished  from  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  Frenchmen  in  that  his  "  France  Nou- 
velle "  was  a  magnificent  attempt  to  spur  his  countrymen's 
ambition  in  that  direction ;  but  this  very  fact  is  an  additional 
argument  against  the  alleged  cause  of  his  self-destruction. 
He  shot  himself  during  the  night  of  the  10th  and  11th  of 
July,  when  not  the  most  pessimistically  inclined  could  fore- 
see the  certainty  of  a  war,  and,  least  of  all,  the  disastrous  re- 
sult of  it  to  France.  Those  who  would  know  the  real  cause 
of  Prevost-Paradol's  suicide  had  better  read  a  short  tale  that 
appeared  anonymously  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  of 
February,  1860.  The  hero  of  "  Madame  de  Mar^ay  "  is  none 
other  than  the  brilliant  journalist  himself,  and  the  germs  of 
suicidal  mania  were  so  plainly  discernible  in  him,  as  to  make 
those  who  knew  the  writer  wonder  that  he  had  not  killed 
himself  long  before  he  did. 

I  have  already  said  that  the  excitement  did  not  abate,  but 
the  more  serious-minded  began  to  look  critical,  and,  among 
the  latter,  curiously  enough,  there  were  a  good  many  superior 
officers  in  the  army.  They  were  too  loyal  to  express  openly 
their  want  of  confidence  in  their  leaders,  but  it  was  evident 
enough  to  the  careful  listener  that  that  want  of  confidence 


THE  EMPEROR  AND  HIS  GENERALS.  375 

did  exist.  I  had  a  conversation  during  that  week  with  one 
of  the  former,  whose  name,  for  obvious  reasons,  I  must  sup- 
press ;  and  this  is,  as  far  as  I  can  remember,  what  he  said, 
knowing  that  he  could  trust  me.  "There  is  not  a  single 
properly  drawn  ordnance  map  of  France  at  the  War  Office ; 
and  if  there  were,  there  is  not  a  single  man  in  power  there 
who  would  know  how  to  use  it.  I  doubt  whether  there  is  a 
settled  plan  of  campaign ;  they'll  endeavour  to  conduct  this 
war  as  they  conducted  the  Crimean,  Italian,  and  Mexican 
wars — that  is,  on  the  principle  which  stood  them  in  such 
good  stead  in  Algeria,  though  they  ought  to  know  by  this 
time  how  very  risky  those  experiments  turned  out,  especially 
in  '59 ;  and  I  have  no  need  to  tell  you  that  we  are  going  to 
confront  a  different  army  from  that  of  the  Austrians  or  the 
Kussians,  Todleben  notwithstanding.  The  African  school  of 
warfare  ought  to  be  played  out  by  now,  but  it  is  not.  To  a 
certain  extent,  the  Emperor  is  to  blame  for  this.  You  re- 
member what  his  uncle  said :  '  There  is  not  a  single  general 
of  whose  draught  I  am  not  aware.  Some  will  go  up  to  their 
waists ;  others  up  to  their  necks ;  others,  again,  to  over  their 
heads ;  but  the  latter  number  is  infinitely  small,  I  assure  you.' 
The  Emperor  is  not  in  the  same  position  with  regard  to  the 
capacity  of  his  generals,  let  alone  of  his  officers." 

"  But  he  ought  to  be,"  I  objected ;  "  he  interviews  a  great 
many  of  them  on  Sunday  mornings."  I  was  alluding  to  the 
informal  levee  held  at  the  Tuileries  every  week,  to  which  the 
generals  and  the  general  officers  by  sea  and  by  land  were  ad- 
mitted. 

"  You  are  right — he  ought  to  be,"  was  the  answer ;  "  and 
if  a  great  deal  of  conscientious  trouble  on  his  part  could  have 
put  him  in  possession  of  such  knowledge,  he  would  have  had 
it  by  this  time.  Of  course,  you  have  never  been  present  at 
such  a  reception ;  for  all  civilians,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  ministers,  are  rigorously  excluded.  I  repeat,  the  inten- 
tion is  a  good  one,  but  it  is  not  carried  out  properly.  The 
very  fact  that  at  the  outset  it  met  with  the  most  strenuous 
opposition  from  nearly  all  the  ministers  and  high  dignitaries 
of  the  Imperial  household  ought  to  have  shown  his  Majesty 
the  necessity  of  interviewing  these  officers  alone,  without  as 
much  as  a  chambellan  in  waiting.  As  it  is,  do  you  know 
what  happens  ?  I  will  tell  you.  The  Emperor  passes  before 
these  officers  as  they  are  standing  around  the  room,  stops  be- 
fore nearly  every  one  to  ask  a  question,  inviting  him,  at  the 


376  -A.N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

same  time,  to  lodge  a  protest  if  necessary  against  any  stand- 
ing abuse  or  to  suggest  a  measure  of  reform.  But  the  cham- 
bellan  is  close  at  his  heels ;  the  minister  for  war,  the  marshal 
commanding  the  Imperial,  Guard,  the  military  governor  of 
Paris,  are  standing  but  a  few  steps  away.  The  officer  to 
whom  the  question  is  addressed  feels  himself  tongue-tied ;  he 
knows  that  all  these  can  hear  every  word  he  says,  and,  rather 
,than  be  marked  by  his  superiors  as  a  tiresome  meddler,  he 
prefers  to  hold  his  tongue  altogether — that  is,  if  he  be  com- 
paratively honest.  Call  it  cowardice  if  you  like,  but  most 
men  will  tell  you  that  such  cowardice  exists  in  all  adminis- 
trations whether  civil  or  military.  Consequently,  the  Em- 
peror, though  he  may  know  a  good  many  officers  by  name 
and  by  sight,  in  reality  knows  nothing  of  their  capacities.  I 
may  safely  say  that,  for  the  last  fifteen  or  sixteen  years,  there 
have  not  been  a  dozen  important  promotions,  either  in  the 
army  or  the  navy,  justified  by  the  '  record  of  service '  of  the 
officer  promoted.  Divisions — nay,  whole  army  corps — have 
been  confided  to  men  who,  in  the  hour  of  need,  will,  no  doubt, 
prove  very  dashing  and  very  plucky,  but  who  have  no  more 
notion  of  handling  large  masses  of  men  than  an  ordinary 
drill-sergeant.  To  use  a  more  striking  metaphor — they  have 
selected  the  most  desperate  punters  at  baccarat  to  work  out 
complicated  chess  problems.  What  the  result  will  be  with 
such  a  champion  as  Von  Moltke,  Heaven  only  knows.  There 
are  men  at  the  head  of  our  cavalry  forces  who  can  scarcely 
hold  themselves  on  horseback ;  there  are  others  commanding 
divisions  and  even  corps-d'armee  who  know  all  about  bridges, 
pontoons,  artillery,  and  so  forth,  but  who  could  no  more  exe- 
cute a  regularly  organized  retreat  or  advance  than  a  child. 
The  theory  is  that  their  dash  and  courage,  their  reckless, 
happy-go-lucky,  but  frequently  successful  African  system, 
will  make  up  for  their  ignorance  of  tactics  and  strategy. 
Naturally  this  is  an  implied  rather  than  an  expressed  opin- 
ion, for  many  of  those  favourites  believe  themselves  to  be  the 
equals  in  these  latter  sciences  of  Jomini  and  Napoleon,  per- 
haps of  Moltke  also.  Do  not  misunderstand  me ;  there  are  a 
number  of  officers  in  the  French  army  who  have  made  a  care- 
ful study  of  the  science  of  war,  and  who,  in  that  respect, 
would  favourably  compare  with  an  equal  number  of  the  best 
instructed  German  officers,  but  they  have  by  this  time  re- 
signed themselves  to  keep  in  the  background,  because  any 
attempt  on  their  part  to  raise  the  standard  of  military  knowl- 


A  GLANCE  AT  THE  FRENCH  ARMY.      377 

edge  has  for  years  been  systematically  discountenanced  by 
those  nearest  to  the  throne.  On  the  other  hand,  the  men 
thus  kept  at  arm's  length  have  not  been  altogether  satisfied 
to  suffer  in  silence.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  they  have 
given  vent  to  their  grievances  openly ;  they  have  done  worse, 
perhaps,  from  the  point  of  view  of  maintaining  the  discipline 
of  the  army.  They  have  adopted  a  semi-critical,  semi-hostile 
attitude  towards  their  superiors.  The  officers'  mess,  such 
as  it  exists  in  England,  is  virtually  unknown  on  the  Conti- 
nent, and  least  of  all  in  France.  The  unmarried  officer 
takes  his  daily  meals  at  the  table  d'hote  of  an  hotel,  and  he 
does  talk  '  shop '  now  and  then  in  the  presence  of  civilians. 
The  criticisms  he  utters  do  find  their  way  to  the  barrack- 
room,  so  that  by  now  the  private  has  become  sceptical  with 
regard  to  the  capabilities  of  the  generals  and  marshals.  The 
soldier  who  begins  to  question  the  fitness  of  his  chiefs  is 
like  the  priest  who  begins  to  question  the  infallibility  of  the 
pope ;  he  is  a  danger  to  the  institution  to  which  he  be- 
longs." 

In  reality,  my  informant  told  me  little  that  was  new, 
though  he  j)erhaps  did  not  suspect  that  I  was  so  well  in- 
formed. I  had  heard  most  of  all  this,  and  a  great  deal  be- 
sides, from  a  connection  of  mine  by  marriage,  whose  strictures 
in  the  same  direction  came  with  additional  force,  seeing  that 
he  was  a  frequent  and  welcome  guest  at  the  Tuileries.  He 
was  a  general  officer,  but,  with  a  frankness  that  bordered  on 
the  cynical,  maintained  that  but  for  his  capital  voice  and 
skill  at  leading  "  the  cotillon  "  he  would  probably  have  never 
risen  beyond  the  rank  of  captain ;  "  for  there  are  a  thousand 
captains  that  know  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do,  a  couple  of 
thousand  that  know  as  much  as  I  do,  and  very  few  who 
know  less,  none  of  whom  have  ever  been  promoted,  and  never 
will  be,  unless  they  earn  their  promotion  at  the  point  of  the 
sword."  According  to  him,  the  "records  of  service"  were 
not  as  much  as  looked  into  at  the  periods  of  general  promo- 
tions. "  A  clever  answer  to  one  of  the  Emperor's  questions, 
a  handsome  face  and  pleasing  manners,  are  sufficient  to  estab- 
lish a  reputation  at  the  Chateau.  The  ministers  for  war  take 
particular  care  not  to  rectify  those  impulsive  judgments  of 
the  Emperor  and  Empress,  because  they  rightly  think  that 
careful  inquiries  into  the  candidates'  merits  would  hurt  their 
own  proteges,  and  those  of  their  fellow-ministers.  This 
happy-go-lucky  system — for  a  system  it  has  become — founded 


378  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

upon  the  most  barefaced  nepotism,  is  condoned,  by  those  who 
ought  to  have  opposed  it  with  all  their  might  and  main  at 
the  very  outset,  on  the  theory  that  Frenchmen's  courage  is 
sure  to  make  up  in  the  end  for  all  shortcomings,  which  theory 
in  itself  is  a  piece  of  impertinence,  or  at  any  rate  of  overween- 
ing conceit,  seeing  that  it  implies  the  absence  of  such  courage 
in  the  officers  of  other  nations.  But  there  is  something  else. 
All  these  favourites  are  jealous  of  one  another,  and,  mark  my 
words,  this  jealousy  will  in  this  instance  lead  to  disastrous 
results,  because  the  Emperor  will  find  it  as  difficult  to  comply 
with  as  to  refuse  their  individual  extravagant  demands.  The 
time  is  gone  by  for  radical  reforms,  '  You  cannot  swap 
horses  while  crossing  a  stream,'  said  Abraham  Lincoln ;  and 
we  are  crossing  a  dangerous  stream.  The  Emperor  has,  be- 
sides, a  horror  of  new  faces  around  him,  and  to  extirpate  the 
evil  radically  he  would  have  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  his 
military  household." 

I  must  preface  the  following  notes  by  a  personal  remark. 
For  private  reasons,  which  I  cannot  and  must  not  mention,  I 
have  decided  not  to  put  my  name  to  these  jottings,  whether 
they  are  published  before  or  after  my  death.  I  am  aware 
that  by  doing  this  I  diminish  their  value ;  because,  although 
I  never  played  a  political  or  even  a  social  part  in  France,  I 
am  sufficiently  well  known  to  inspire  the  reader  with  confi- 
dence. As  it  is,  he  must  take  it  for  granted  that  I  was  prob- 
ably the  only  foreigner  whom  Frenchmen  had  agreed  not  to 
consider  an  enemy  in  disguise. 

While  my  relative  was  giving  me  the  above  resume,  I  was 
already  aware  that  there  existed  in  the  French  War  Office  a 
scheme  of  mobilization  and  a  plan  of  campaign  elaborated 
by  Marshal  Niel,  the  immediate  predecessor  of  Marshal  Le- 
boeuf.  I  knew,  moreover,  that  this  plan  provided  for  the 
formation  of  three  armies,  under  the  respective  commands  of 
Marshals  MacMahon,  Bazaine,  and  Canrobert,  and  that  the 
disposition  of  these  three  armies  had  been  the  basis  of  nego- 
tiations for  a  Franco- Austrian  alliance  which  had  been  started 
six  weeks  previous  to  the  declaration  of  war  by  General  Le- 
brun  in  Vienna.  Up  till  the  22nd  or  23rd  of  July  the  prepa- 
rations were  carried  out  in  accordance  with  that  original  pro- 
ject ;  the  respective  staffs  that  had  been  appointed,  the  vari- 
ous regiments  and  brigades  distributed  long  ago,  were  already 
hurrying  to  the  front,  when  all  of  a  sudden  the  whole  of  this 
plan  was  modified ;  the  three  armies  were  to  be  fused  into 


NAPOLEON'S  MARSHALS.  379 

one,  to  be  called  "  I'armee  du  Eliin,"  under  the  sole  and  ex- 
clusive command  of  the  Emperor. 

Whence  this  sudden  change  ?  The  historians,  Avith  their 
usual  contempt  for  small  causes,  haA'e  endeavoured  to  explain 
it  in  various  ways.  According  to  some,  the  change  was  de- 
cided upon  in  order  to  afford  the  Emperor  the  opportunity 
of  distinguishing  himself  ;  the  "  armee  du  Rhin  "  was  to  re- 
vive the  glories  of  the  "  graude  armee  ; "  there  was  to  be  a 
second  edition  of  the  Napoleonic  ei)ic.  After  the  first  start- 
ling successes,  the  Emperor  was  to  return  to  the  capital,  and 
Marshal  Xiel's  j^lan  was,  if  practicable,  to  be  taken  up  once 
more, — that  is,  the  French  troops,  having  established  a  foot- 
hold in  the  enemy's  country,  were  to  be  divided  again  under 
so  many  Klebers,  Soults,  and  Xeys. 

According  to  others,  the  Emperor,  v>'ho  until  then  had 
been  living  in  a  fool's  paradise  with,  regard  to  the  quantity,  if 
not  with  regard  to  the  quality,  of  the  forces  at  his  disposal, 
suddenly  had  his  eyes  opened  to  the  real  state  of  affairs.  The 
six  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  troops  supposed  to  be  at  his 
disposal  had  their  existence  mainly  on  paper :  the  available 
reality  did  not  amount  to  more  than  a  third  ;  i.e.  to  about 
two  hundred  and  fifteen  thousand  troops  of  all  arms. 

The  facts  advanced  by  these  historians  are  true,  but  they 
did  not  determine  the  change  referred  to — at  any  rate,  not  so 
far  as  the  assumption  of  the  supreme  command  by  the  Em- 
peror himself  was  concerned.  Anxious  as  the  latter  may  have 
been,  in  the  interest  of  his  dynasty,  to  reap  the  glory  of  one 
or  two  successful  battles  fought  under  his  immediate  super- 
vision, he  Avas  fully  aware  of  his  unfitness  for  such  a  task, 
especially  in  his  actual  state  of  health.  Louis-Xapoleon  be- 
lieved in  his  star,  but  he  was  not  an  idiot  who  counted  upon 
luck  to  decide  the  fate  of  battles.  If  ho  had  ever  fostered 
such  illusions,  the  campaign  of  1859  must  have  given  a  rude 
shock  to  them,  for  there  he  was,  more  than  once,  within  an 
ace  of  defeat ;  and  no  one  knew  this  better  than  he  did.  The 
fusing  of  the  three  armies  into  one  v>'as  due,  first,  to  tlie  diili- 
culty,  if  not  impossibility,  of  constituting  three  armies  with 
considei'ably  less  than  three  hundred  thousand  troops ; 
secondly,  to  the  inveterate  jealousy  of  his  marshals  of  one 
another.  Kapoleon  feared,  and  justly,  that  if  those  three 
armies  went  forth  under  three  separate  comnumds,  there 
would  be  a  repetition  of  the  quarrels  that  had  occurred  during 
the  Austro-Franco  war,  when  Kiel  accused  Canrobcrt  of  not 


380  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

having  properly  supported  him  at  the  right  time,  and  so 
forth.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Emperor  himself 
had  to  intervene  to  heal  those  quarrels.  Under  those  cir- 
cumstances, the  Emperor  thought  it  better  to  risk  it,  and  to 
take  the  whole  responsibility  upon  himself. 

The  Emperor  left  St.  Cloud  on  the  28th  of  July.  It  is 
very  certain  that,  even  before  his  departure,  his  confidence  in 
the  late  Marshal  Xiel  as  an  organizer  must  have  been  con- 
siderably shaken,  and  that  the  words  of  Leboeuf ,  "  AYe  are 
ready,  more  than  ready,"  sounded  already  a  hollow  mockery 
to  his  ear.  Here  are  some  of  the  telegrams  which,  after  the 
4th  of  September,  were  found  among  the  papers  at  the  Tui- 
leries.  They  were  probably  copies  of  the  originals,  though  I 
am  by  no  means  certain  that  they  were  forwarded  to  St.  Cloud 
at  the  time  of  their  reception.  It  would  have  been  better, 
perhaps,  if  they  had  been. 

"  Metz,  20  July,  1870,  9.50  a.m.  From  Chief  of  Commis- 
sariat Department  to  General  Blondeau,  War  Office,  Paris. 
There  is  at  Metz  neither  sugar,  coffee,  rice,  brandy,  nor  salt. 
We  have  but  little  bacon  and  biscuit.  Despatch,  at  least,  a 
million  rations  to  Thionville." 

"  General  Ducrot  to  War  Office,  Paris.  Strasburg,  20  July, 
1870,  8.30  p.m.  By  to-morrow  there  will  be  scarcely  fifty 
men  left  to  guard  Neuf-Brisach ;  Fort-Mortier,  Schlestadt, 
la  Petite- Pierre,  and  Lichtenberg  are  equally  deserted.  It  is 
the  result  of  the  orders  we  are  carrying  out.  The  Garde 
Mobile  and  local  National  Guards  might  easily  be  made  avail- 
able for  garrison  duty,  but  I  am  reluctant  to  adopt  such 
measures,  seeing  that  your  excellency  has  granted  me  no 
power  to  that  effect.  It  appears  certain  that  the  Prussians 
are  already  masters  of  all  the  passes  of  the  Black  Forest." 

"  From  the  General  commanding  the  2nd  Army  Corps  to 
War  Office,  Paris.  Saint-Avoid,  21  July,  1870,  8.55  a.m. 
The  depot  sends  enormous  parcels  of  maps,  which  are  abso- 
lutely useless  for  the  moment.  We  have  not  a  single  map  of 
the  French  frontier.  It  would  be  better  to  send  greater 
quantities  of  what  would  be  more  useful,  and  which  are  abso- 
lutely wanting  at  this  moment." 

"  From  General  Michael  to  War  Office,  Paris.  Belf  ort, 
21  July,  1870,  7.30  a.m.  Have  arrived  at  Belf  ort ;  did  not 
find  my  brigade,  did  not  find  a  general  of  division.  What 
am  I  to  do?    Do  not  know  where  are  my  regiments." 

"  From  General  commanding  4:th  Army  Corps  to  Major- 


SOME  TELEGRAMS. 


381 


General,  Paris.  Thionville,  21  July,  9.12  a.m.  The  4th 
Corps  has  as  yet  neither  canteens,  ambulances,  nor  baggao-e- 
waggons,  either  for  the  troops  or  the  staff.  There  islin 
utter  lack  of  everything." 

_  I  need  quote  no  further ;  there  were  about  two  hundred 
missives  in  all,  all  dated  within  the  week  following  the  offi- 
cial declaration  of  war.  It  would  be  difficult  to  determine 
how  many  of  these  the  Emperor  was  permitted  to  see,  but 
there  is  no  doubt  that  he  had  a  pretty  correct  idea  of  the 
state  of  affairs,  for  here  is  a  fact  wliich  I  have  not  seen 
stated  anywhere,  but  for  the  truth  of  which  I  can  vouch. 
For  full  two  years  before  the  outbreak  of  hostilities,  the 
Legislature  seemed  bent  upon  advocating  all  kinds  of  retrench- 
ment in  the  war  budget.  During  the  first  six  months  of 
1870,  the  thing  had  almost  become  a  mania  with  them,  and 
the  Emperor  appealed  to  M.  Thiers,  through  the  interme- 
diary of  Marshal  Leboeuf  himself,  to  help  him  stem  the  tide 
of  this  pseudo-economy.  Thiers  promised  his  support,  and 
faithfully  kept  his  word ;  but  his  aid  came  too  late.  The 
Emperor,  however,  felt  grateful  to  him,  and,  only  thirty-six 
hours  before  his  departure  for  the  seat  of  war,  he  offered  him 
the  portfolio  of  war,  again  through  the  intermediary  of  Mar- 
shal Lebceuf.  The  offer  was  respectfully  declined,  but  what 
must  have  been  the  state  of  mind  of  Louis-Napoleon  with 
regard  to  his  officers,  to  prefer  to  them  a  civilian  at  such  a 
critical  moment  ?  I  may  state  here  that  it  was  always  the 
height  of  M.  Thiers'  ambition  to  be  considered  a"  great 
strategist  and  tactician,  and  also  a  military  engineer.  "  Jo- 
mini  was  a  civilian,"  he  frequently  exclaimed.  Those  who 
were  competent  to  judge,  have  often  declared  that  Thiers' 
pretensions  in  that  direction  were,  to  a  certain  extent,  jus- 
tified by  his  talents.  Curiously  enough,  M.  de  Freycinet  is 
affected  by  a  similar  mania. 

Here  is  a  certain  correlative  to  the  above-mentioned  fact. 
When,  a  few  months  after  the  Commune,  things  were  get- 
ting ship-shape  in  Paris,  a  large  bundle  of  printed  matter 
was  unearthed  in  the  erstwhile  Imperial  (then  National) 
Printing  Works.  It  contained,  amongst  others,  a  circular 
drawn  up  by  the  Emperor  himself,  entitled  "  A  Bad  Piece 
of  Economy ; "  it  was  addressed  to  the  deputies,  and  dated 
May,  1870  fit  showed  the  presumptive  strength  of  the  army 
of  the  North-German  Confederation  as  compared  with  that 
of  France,  and  wound  up  with  the  following  sentence  :  "  If 


382  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

we  compare  the  military  condition  of  North- Germany  with 
ours,  we  shall  be  able  to  judge  how  far  those  who  would  still 
further  reduce  our  national  forces  are  sufficiently  enlightened 
as  to  our  real  interests." 

It  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me,  and  to  those  who 
were  aware  of  its  existence,  why  this  circular  was  not  dis- 
tributed at  the  proper  time ;  though,  by  the  light  of  subse- 
quent events,  one  fails  to  see  what  good  it  could  have  done 
then.  Were  these  events  foreseen  at  the  Tuileries  as  early 
as  May  ?  I  think  not.  The  majority  of  the  Emperor's  en- 
tourage were  confident  that  war  with  Germany  was  only  a 
matter  of  time ;  very  few  considered  it  to  be  so  imminent. 
One  cannot  for  a  moment  imagine  that  the  suppression  of 
this  circular  was  due  to  accidental  or  premeditated  neglect ; 
for  the  sovereign,  though  ailing  and  low-spirited,  was  still 
too  mindful  of  his  prerogatives  not  to  have  visited  such  neg- 
lect of  his  wishes,  whether  intentional  or  not,  with  severe 
displeasure.  Nor  can  one  for  a  moment  admit  that  the  Em- 
peror was  hoodwinked  into  the  belief  that  the  circular  had 
been  distributed.  His  so-called  advisers  probably  prevailed 
upon  him  to  forego  the  distribution  of  the  document,  lest  it 
should  open  the  eyes  of  the  nation  to  the  inferiority  of 
France's  armaments.  The  only  man  who  had  dared  to  point 
out  that  inferiority,  three  years  previously,  was  General 
Trochu,  and  his  book,  "  I'Armee  Eran9aise,"  had  the  effect 
of  ostracizing  him  from  the  Tuileries.  The  smart  and  swag- 
gering colonels  who  surrounded  the  Empress  did  not  scruple 
to  spread  the  most  ridiculous  slanders  with  regard  to  its  au- 
thor ;  but  the  Emperor,  though  aware  that  Trochu  was  sys- 
tematically opposed  to  his  dynasty,  also  knew  that  he  was  an 
able,  perhaps  the  ablest  soldier  in  the  country.  The  subse- 
quent failure  of  Trochu  does  not  invalidate  that  judgment. 
"  I  know  what  Trochu  could  and  would  do  if  he  were  un- 
hampered ;  but  I  need  not  concern  myself  with  that,  seeing 
that  he  will  be  hampered,"  said  Von  Moltke  at  the  beginning 
of  the  siege.  Colonel  Stoffel,  the  French  military  attache 
at  Berlin,  was  severely  reprimanded  by  Marshal  Niel  and  by 
Leboeuf  afterwards  for  his  constant  endeavours  to  acquaint 
the  Emperor  with  the  magnificent  state  of  efficiency  of  the 
Prussian  army  and  its  auxiliaries.  Ostensibly,  it  was  because 
he  had  been  guilty  of  a  breach  of  diplomatic  and  military 
etiquette;  in  reality,  because  the  minister  for  war  and  his 
"festive"  coadjutors  objected  to  being  constantly  harassed 


A  WOULD-BE  MARIA-THERESA.  333 

in  their  pleasures  by  the  sovereign's  suspicions  of  their  men- 
tal nakedness.  "  Kous  I'ayons  eu,  votre  Rhin  allemand.  .  .  . 
Oil  le  pere  a  passe,  passera  bien  I'enfant,"  was  their  credo ; 
and  they  continued  to  dance,  and  to  flirt,  and  to  intrigue  for 
places,  which,  in  their  hands,  became  fat  sinecures.  They 
would  have  laughed  to  scorn  the  dictum  of  the  first  Napo- 
leon, that  "  there  are  no  bad  regiments,  only  bad  colonels ;  " 
in  their  opinion,  there  were  no  bad  colonels,  except  those 
perhaps  who  did  not  constantly  jingle  their  spurs  on  the 
carpeted  floors  of  the  Empress's  boudoir,  and  the  parqueted 
arena  of  the  Empress's  ball-room.  The  Emperor  was  too 
much  of  a  dreamer  and  a  philosopher  for  them ;  he  could 
not  emancipate  himself  from  his  German  education.  The 
best  thing  to  do  was  to  let  him  write  and  print  whatever  he 
liked,  and  then  prevail  upon  him  at  the  last  moment  not  to 
publish,  lest  it  might  offend  national  vanity.  Contemptuous 
as  they  were  of  the  German  spirit  of  plodding,  they  had, 
nevertheless,  taken  a  leaf  from  an  eminent  German's  book. 
"  Let  them  say  and  write  what  they  like,  as  long  as  they  let 
me  do  what  I  like,"  exclaimed  Frederick  the  Great,  on  one 
occasion.  They  slightly  reversed  the  sentence.  "  Let  the 
Emperor  say  and  write  what  he  likes,  as  long  as  he  lets  us  do 
what  we  like ;  and  one  thing  we  will  take  care  to  do,  namely, 
not  to  let  him  publish  his  writings."  They  had  forgotten,  if 
ever  they  knew  them — for  their  ignorance  was  as  startling  as 
their  conceit — the  magnificent  lines  of  the  founder  of  the 
dynasty  which  they  had  systematically  undermined  for  years 
by  their  dissipation,  frivolity,  and  corruption  :  "  The  general 
is  the  head,  the  all  in  all  of  the  army.  It  was  not  the  Eoman 
army  that  conquered  Gaul,  but  Caesar ;  it  was  not  the  Car- 
thaginian army  that  made  the  republican  army  tremble  at 
the  very  gates  of  Rome,  but  Hannibal ;  it  was  not  the  Mace- 
donian army  that  penetrated  to  the  Indus,  but  Alexander ; 
it  was  not  the  French  army  which  carried  the  war  as  far  as 
the  Weser  and  the  Inn,  but  Turenne ;  it  was  not  the  Prus- 
sian army  which  defended,  during  seven  years,  Prussia  against 
the  three  greatest  powers  in  Europe,  but  Frederick  the 
Great." 

And  she  who  aspired  to  play  the  role  of  a  Maria-Theresa, 
when  she  was  not  even  a  Marie- Antoinette,  and  far  more 
harmful  than  even  a  Marie-Louise,  applauded  the  vapourings 
of  those  misguided  men.  "  Le  courage  fait  tout,"  had  been 
the  motto  for  nearly  a  score  of  years  at  the  Tuileries.     It  did 


384  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

a  good  deal  in  the  comedies  a  la  Marivaux,  in  the  Boccacian 
charades  that  had  been  enacted  there  during  that  time ;  she 
had  yet  to  learn  that  it  would  avail  little  or  nothing  in  the 
Homeric  struggle  which  was  impending. 


THE  WAR.  385 


CHAPTER  XX. 

The  war— Eeaction  before  the  Emperor's  departure — The  moral  effects  of  tho 
publication  of  the  draft  treaty — "  Bismarck  has  done  the  Emperor" — The 
Parisians  did  not  like  the  Empress — The  latter  always  anxious  to  assume 
the  regency— A  retrospect — Crimean  war — Tlie  Empress  and  Queen  Vic- 
toria— Solferino — The  regency  of  '65 — Bismarck's  millinery  bills— Lord 
Lyons — Bismarck  and  the  Due  de  Gramont — Lord  Lvons  does  not  foresee 
war — The  republicans  and  the  war — The  Empress — Two  ministerial  coun- 
cils and  their  consequences — Mr.  Prescott-Hewett  sent  for — Josepli  Ferrari, 
the  Italian  philosopher — The  Empress — The  ferment  in  Paris — "  Too  much 
prologue  to  '  The  Taming  of  the  German  Shrew '  " — The  tirst  engagement 
— The  "  Marseillaise  " — An  infant  performer — The  "  Marseillaise  "  at  the 
Coniedie-FranQaise — The  "  Marseillaise"  by  command  of  the  Emperor — A 
patriotic  ballet — The  courtesy  of  the  French  at  Fontenoy — The  Cafe  de  la 
Paix — General  Beaufort  d'llautpoul  and  Moltke — Newspaper  correspond- 
ents— Edmond  About  tells  a  story  about  one  of  his  colleagues — News  sup- 
plied by  the  Government — What  it  amounted  to — The  infonnation  it  gave 
to  the  enemy — Bazaine,  "  the  glorious"  one — Palikao — The  fall  of  the  Em- 
pire does  not  date  from  Sedan,  but  from  Wcerth  and  Speicheren — Those 
who  dealt  it  the  heaviest  blow — The  Empress,  the  Empress,  and  no  one  but 
the  Empress. 

Even  before  the  Emperor  started  for  the  seat  of  war  it 
was  very  evident,  to  those  who  kept  their  eyes  open,  that  a 
reaction  had  set  in  among  the  better  classes.  They  were  no 
longer  confident  about  France's  ability  to  chastise  the  arro- 
gance of  the  King  of  Prussia.  The  publication  of  the  fa- 
mous "  draft  treaty  "  had  convinced  them  "  que  Bismarck 
avait  roule  I'empereur," — anf/Iice,  "  that  the  Emperor  had 
been  bone  ;"  and,  notwithstanding  their  repeated  assertions 
of  being  able  to  dispense  with  the  moral  suj^port  of  Europe, 
they  felt  not  altogether  resigned  about  the  animosity  which 
the  revelation  of  that  document  had  provoked.  Honestly 
speaking,  I  do  not  think  that  they  regretted  the  duplicity  of 
Louis- Napoleon  in  having  tried  to  steal  a  march  upon  the 
co-signatories  of  the  treaty  guaranteeing  the  protection  of 
Belgium  ;  but  it  wounded  their  pride  that  he  should  have 
been  found  out  to  no  purpose.  The  word  "  imbecile  "  began 
to  circulate  freely ;  and  when  it  became  known  that  he  had 
conferred  the  regency  upon  the  Empress,  the  expression  of 
17 


386  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

contempt  and  disapproval  became  stronger  still.  In  spite  of 
everything  that  has  been  said  to  the  contrary,  the  Parisians 
did  not  like  the  Empress.  I  have  already  noted  elsewhere 
that  those  frankly  hostile  to  her  did  not  scruple  to  apply  the 
word  "  I'Espagnole  "  in  a  depreciating  sense ;  those  whose 
animosity  did  not  go  so  far  merely  considered  her  "  une  fem- 
me  a  la  mode,"  and  by  no  means  fitted  to  take  the  reins  of 
government,  especially  under  circumstances  so  grave  as  the 
present  ones.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Empress  always  showed 
herself  exceedingly  anxious  to  exercise  the  functions  of  re- 
gent. The  flatterers  and  courtiers  around  her  had  imbued 
her  with  the  idea  that  she  was  a  kind  of  Elizabeth  and  a 
Catherine  in  one,  and  the  clerical  element  in  her  entourage 
was  not  the  least  blamable  in  that  respect. 

During  the  Crimean  war,  Lord  Clarendon  had  already 
been  compelled  to  combat  the  project,  though  he  could  not 
do  so  openly.  Napoleon  III.  had  several  times  expressed  his 
intention  of  taking  the  command  of  the  army.  His  minis- 
ters, and  especially  MM.  Troplong  and  Baroche,  begged  of 
him  not  to  do  so.  Even  Queen  Victoria,  to  whom  the  idea 
was  broached  while  on  her  visit  to  Paris,  threw  cold  water 
upon  it  as  far  as  was  possible.  But  the  Empress  encouraged  it 
to  her  utmost.  "  I  fail  to  see,"  she  said  to  our  sovereign,  "  that 
lie  would  be  expose  d  to  greater  dangers  there  than  elsewhere." 
It  was  the  prospect  of  the  regency,  not  of  the  glory  that 
might  possibly  accrue  to  her  consort,  that  appealed  to  the 
Empress ;  for  in  reality  she  bad  not  the  least  sympathy  with 
the  object  of  that  war,  any  more  than  with  that  of  1859. 
Kussia  was  ostensibly  fighting  for  the  custody  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre ;  and  the  defeat  of  Austria,  she  had  been  told  by 
the  priests,  would  entail  the  ruin  of  the  temporal  power  of 
the  pope.  And  Empress  Eugenie  never  attained  to  anything 
more  than  parrot  knowledge  in  the  way  of  politics. 

However,  in  1859  she  had  her  wish,  and,  before  the  open- 
ing of  the  campaign,  she  declared  to  the  Corps  Legislatif 
that  "  she  had  perfect  faith  in  the  moderation  of  the  Em- 
peror when  the  right  moment  for  peace  should  have  arrived." 
Her  ladies-in-waiting  and  the  male  butterflies  around  her 
openly  discounted  the  political  effects  of  every  engagement 
on  the  field  of  battle.  The  Emperor,  according  to  them, 
would  make  peace  with  Austria  with  very  few  sacrifices  on 
the  latter's  part,  for  it  was  a  Conservative  and  Catholic  power, 
which  could  not  be  humiliated  to  the  bitter  end,  while  Italy 


HENPECKED  SOVEREIGNS.  337 

was,  after  all,  but  a  hotbed  of  conspiracy,  revolutionary,  anti- 
Catholic,  and  so  forth. 

And  I  know,  for  a  positive  fact,  that  the  Emperor  was, 
as  it  were,  compelled  to  suspend  operations  after  Solferino, 
because  the  Minister  for  AVar  had  ceased  to  send  troops  and 
ammunitions  "  by  order  of  the  regent."  The  Minister  for 
Foreign  Affairs  endeavoured  by  all  means  in  his  power  to 
alarm  his  sovereign. 

Nevertheless,  in  18G5,  when  he  went  to  Algeria  to  seek 
some  relief  from  his  acute  physical  sufferings.  Napoleon  III. 
was  badgered  into  confiding  the  regency  once  more  to  his 
wife.  There  is  no  other  word,  because  there  was  no  necessity 
for  such  a  measure,  seeing  that  he  did  not  leave  French  terri- 
tory. We  have  an  inveterate  habit  of  laughing  at  the  "  hen- 
pecked husband,"  and  no  essayist  has  been  bold  enough  as 
yet  to  devote  a  chapter  to  him  from  a  purely  historical  point 
of  view.  The  materials  are  not  only  at  hand  in  France,  but 
in  England,  Germany,  and  Russia  also ;  above  all,  in  the  lat- 
ter country.  He,  the  essayist,  might  safely  leave  Catherine 
de  Medici  out  of  the  question.  He  need  not  go  back  as  far. 
He  might  begin  with  Marie  de  Medici  and  her  daughter, 
Henrietta-Maria.  Sometimes  the  "henpecking"  turns  out 
to  be  for  the  world's  benefit,  as  when  Sophie-Dorothea  wor- 
ries her  spouse  to  let  her  first  boy  wear  a  heavy  christening 
dress  and  crown,  which  eventually  kill  the  infant,  who  makes 
room  for  Frederick  the  Great.  But  one  could  have  very  well 
spared  the  servant-wench  who  henpecked  Peter  the  Great, 
and  Scarron's  widow  who  henpecked  Louis  XIV.,  and  Marie- 
Antoinette  and  the  rest. 

The  regency  of  '65,  though  perhaps  not  disastrous  in  it- 
self, was  fraught  with  the  most  disastrous  consequences  for 
the  future.  It  gave  the  Empress  the  political  importance 
which  she  had  been  coveting  for  years ;  henceforth  she  made 
it  a  habit  to  be  present  at  the  councils  of  ministers,  who  in 
their  turn  informed  her  personally  of  events  which  ought  to 
have  remained  strictly  between  them  and  the  chief  of  the 
State.  This  went  on  until  M.  Emile  Ollivier  came  into 
power,  January  2,  1870.  The  Italian  and  Austrian  ambas- 
sadors, however,  continued  to  flatter  her  vanity  by  constantly 
appealing  to  her ;  the  part  they  played  on  the  4th  of  Septem- 
ber shows  plainly  enough  how  they  profited  in  the  interest  of 
their  governments  by  these  seemingly  diplomatic  indiscre- 
tions on  their  own  part. 


338  -A.N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

As  for  Bismarck,  as  some  one  who  was  very  much  behind 
the  political  scenes  in  Berlin  once  said,  "  His  policy  consist- 
ed in  paying  milliners'  and  dressmakers'  bills  in  Paris  for 
ladies  to  whosa  personal  adornment  and  appearance  he  was 
profoundly  indifferent."  I  am  bound  to  say  that  Lord  Lyons 
courteously  but  steadfastly  refused  to  be  drawn  out  "  diplo- 
matically "  by  the  Empress.  AVhile  paying  due  homage  to 
the  woman  and  to  the  sovereign,  he  tacitly  declined  to  con- 
sider her  a  pawn  in  the  political  game,  and,  though  always 
extremely  guarded  in  his  language,  could  scarcely  refrain 
from  showing  his  contempt  for  those  who  did.  I  do  not 
know  whether  Lord  Lyons  will  leave  behind  any  "  memoirs ; " 
if  he  do,  we  shall  probably  get  not  only  nothing  but  the 
truth,  but  the  whole  truth,  with  regard  to  the  share  of  the 
Empress  in  determining  the  war ;  and  we  shall  find  that  that 
war  was  not  decided  upon  between  the  Imperial  couple  be- 
tween the  14th  and  15th  of  July,  '70,  but  between  the  5th 
and  6th  of  July.  Meanwhile,  without  presuming  to  antici- 
pate such  revelations  on  the  part  of  our  ambassador,  I  may 
note  here  my  own  recollections  on  the  subject. 

On  Tuesday,  the  5  th  of  July,  about  2.30  p.  m.,  I  was  walk- 
ing along  the  Faubourg  Saint-Honore,  when,  just  in  front 
of  the  Embassy,  I  was  brought  to  a  standstill  by  Lord  Lyons' 
carriage  turning  into  the  courtyard  from  the  street.  His 
lordship  was  inside.  We  were  on  very  good  terms,  I  may  say 
on  very  friendly  terms,  and  he  beckoned  me  to  come  in.  I 
was  at  the  short  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  hall  almost  as 
soon  as  the  carriage,  and  we  went  inside  together.  I  do  not 
suppose  I  was  in  his  private  room  for  more  than  ten  min- 
utes, but  I  brought  away  the  impression  that,  although  the 
Due  de  Gramont  and  M.  Emile  Ollivier  might  think  it  ne- 
cessary to  adopt  a  bellicose  tone  in  face  of  the  Hohenzollern 
candidature,  there  was  little  or  no  fear  of  war,  because  the 
Emperor  was  decidedly  inclined  to  peace.  I  remember  this 
the  more  distinctly,  seeing  that  Lord  Lyons  told  me  that  he 
had  just  returned  from  an  interview  with  the  Minister  for 
Foreign  Affairs.  I  am  not  certain  of  the  exact  words  used 
by  his  lordship,  but  positive  as  to  the  drift  of  one  of  his  re- 
marks ;  namely,  that  the  Due  de  Gramont  was  the  last  per- 
son who  ought  to  conduct  the  negotiations.  "  There  is  too 
much  personal  animosity  between  him  and  Bismarck,  owing 
mainly  to  the  latter  having  laughed  his  pretensions  to  scorn 
as  a  diplomatist  while  the  duke  was  at  Vienna."     I  am  cer- 


A  TALK  WITH  LORD  LYONS.  339 

tain  the  words  were  to  that  effect.  Then  he  added,  "  I  can 
understand  though  I  fail  to  approve  De  Gramont's  personal 
irritation,  but  cannot  account  for  Ollivier's,  and  he  seems  as 
pugnacious  as  the  other.  Nevertheless,  I  repeat,  the  whole 
of  this  will  blow  over :  William  is  too  wise  a  man  to  go  to 
Avar  on  such  a  pretext,  and  the  Emperor  is  too  ill  not  to  want 
peace.  I  wish  the  Empress  would  leave  him  alone.  I  am 
going  to  Ollivier's  to-night,  and  I'll  know  more  about  it  by 
to-morrow  morning." 

It  is  very  evident  from  this  that  the  historians  were  sub- 
sequently wrongly  informed  as  to  M.  Emile  Ollivier's  attitude 
at  that  moment,  which  they  have  described  as  exactly  the  re- 
verse from  what  Lord  Lyons  found  it.  I  knew  little  or  noth- 
ing of  M.  Ollivier,  still  he  did  not  give  me  the  impression  of 
being  likely  to  adopt  a  hectoring  tone  just  in  order  to  please 
the  gallery,  the  gallery  being  in  this  instance  the  clientele  of 
the  opposition,  whom  the  Emperor  feared  more  than  any  one 
else.  From  all  I  have  been  able  to  gather  since,  Louis- Na- 
poleon seemed  racked  with  anxiety,  but,  as  one  of  my  inform- 
ants, who  was  scarcely  away  from  his  side  at  the  time,  said 
afterwards,  he  was  not  pondering  over  the  consequences  of 
war  which  he  fancied  he  was  able  to  prevent,  he  was  ponder- 
ing the  consequences  of  peace.  Translated  into  plain  lan- 
guage, it  meant  that  the  republican  minority,  with  its  recent 
accession  of  representatives  in  the  chambers  and  its  still  more 
unscrupulous  adherents  outside,  were  striving  with  might  and 
main,  not  to  goad  the  Emperor  into  a  war,  but  to  make  him 
keep  a  peace  Avhich,  if  they  had  had  the  chance,  they  would 
have  denounced  as  humiliating  to  France. 

Unfortunately  for  France,  they  found  an  unexpected  ally 
in  the  Empress.  The  latter  urged  on  the  war  with  Prussia, 
in  order  to  secure  to  her  son  the  imperial  crown  which  was 
shaking  on  the  head  of  her  husband ;  the  former  were  play- 
ing the  game  known  colloquially  as  "  Heads,  I  win ;  tails,  you 
lose."  Peace  preserved  by  means  of  diplomatic  negotiations 
would  give  them  the  opportunity  of  holding  up  the  Empire 
to  scorn  as  being  to  weak  to  safeguard  the  national  honour ; 
war  would  give  them  the  opportunity  of  airing  their  plati- 
tudes about  the  iniquity  of  standing  armies  and  the  sacrifice 
of  human  life,  etc,  I  go  further  still,  and  unhesitatingly  af- 
firm that,  if  any  party  was  aware  of  the  corruption  in  the 
army,  it  Avas  the  republican  one.  The  plebiscite  of  May,  with 
its  thousands  of  votes  adverse  to  the  Imperial  regime — among 


390  -^N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

which  votes  there  were  those  of  a  great  many  officers — had  not 
only  given  them  a  chance  of  counting  their  numbers,  but  of 
obtaining  information,  not  available  to  their  adversaries  in 
power.  This  is  tantamount  to  an  indictment  of  having  de- 
liberately contributed  to  the  temporary  ruin  of  their  country 
for  political  purposes,  and  such  I  intend  it  to  be.  I  am  not 
speaking  without  good  grounds. 

On  the  day  I  met  Lord  Lyons,  two  ministerial  councils 
were  held  at  Saint- Cloud,  both  presided  over  by  the  Emperor. 
Between  the  first  and  the  second,  the  peaceful  sentiments  of 
the  chief  of  the  State  underwent  no  change.  So  little  did 
the  Emperor  foresee  or  desire  war,  that  on  the  evening  of 
that  same  day,  while  the  second  council  of  ministers  was 
being  held,  he  sent  one  of  his  aides-de-camp  to  my  house  for 
the  exact  address  of  Mr.  Prescott-Hewett,  the  eminent  Eng- 
lish surgeon.  I  was  not  at  home,  and  on  my  return,  an  hour 
later,  sent  the  address  by  telegraph  to  Saint-Cloud.  I  have 
since  learnt  that,  on  the  same  night,  a  telegram  was  despatched 
to  J^ondon,  inquiring  of  Mr.  Hewett  when  it  would  be  con- 
venient for  him  to  hold  a  consultation  in  Paris,  An  appoint- 
ment was  made,  but  Mr.  Hewett  eventually  went  in  August, 
to  the  seat  of  war,  to  see  his  illustrious  patient.  I  believe, 
but  am  not  certain,  that  he  saw  him  at  Chalons. 

On  the  6th  of  July,  there  was  a  third  council  of  ministers 
at  Saint- Cloud,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  order  to 
draw  up  the  answer  to  M.  Cochery's  interpellation  on  the 
Hohenzollern  candidature.  The  latter  was  supposed  to  have 
been  inspired  by  M.  Thiers,  but  I  will  only  state  what  I  know 
positively  with  regard  to  the  Emperor.  At  a  little  after  two 
that  afternoon,  I  happened  to  be  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  when 
my  old  friend,  Joseph  Ferrari,  came  up  to  me.*  He  was  a 
great  friend  of  Adolphe  and  Elysee,  the  brothers  of  Emile 
Oliivier.  He  looked  positively  crestfallen,  and,  knowing  him 
to  be  a  sincere  advocate  of  peace,  I  had  no  need  to  ask  him 
for  the  nature  of  the  news  he  brought.  I  could  see  at  a 
glance  that  it  was  bad.  He,  however,  left  me  no  time  to  put 
a  question. 

"  It's  all  over,"  he  said  at  once,  "  and,  unless  a  miracle 
happens,  we'll  have  war  in  less  than  a  fortnight."    He  im- 


*  Joseph  Ferrari  was  an  Italian  by  birth,  but  spent. a  grreat  part  of  his  time 
in  France.  He  is  best  known  by  his  ''  Philosophes  Salaries,"  and  died  in  Eome, 
1876.— Editor. 


THE  EMPRESS  STILL.  39 1 

mediately  went  on.  "  Wait  for  another  hour,  and  then  you'll 
see  the  effect  of  De  Graniont's  answer  to  Cochery's  interpel- 
lation in  the  Chamber.  Xot  only  the  Prussians,  but  the 
smallest  nation  in  Europe  would  not  stand  it." 

"But,"  I  remarked,  "about  this  time  yesterday  I  was 
positively  assured,  and  on  the  best  authority,  that  the  Em- 
peror was  absolutely  opposed  to  any  but  a  pacific  remon- 
strance." 

"  Your  informant  was  perfectly  correct,"  was  the  answer ; 
"  and  as  late  as  ten  o'clock  last  night,  at  the  termination  of 
the  second  council  of  ministers,  his  sentiments  underwent  no 
change.  Immediately  after  that,  the  Empress  had  a  conver- 
sation with  the  Emperor,  which  I  know  for  certain  lasted  till 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  result  of  this  conversation 
is  the  answer,  the  text  of  which  you  will  see  directly,  and 
which  is  tantamount  to  a  challenge  to  Prussia.  3[ark  my 
words,  the  Empress  will  not  cease  from  troubling  until  she 
has  driven  France  into  a  war  with  the  only  great  Protestant 
power  on  the  Continent.  That  power  defeated,  she  will 
endeavour  to  destroy  the  rising  unity  of  Italy.  She  little 
knows  that  Victor-Emanuel  will  not  wait  until  then,  and 
that,  at  the  first  success  of  the  French  on  the  Rhine,  he  will 
cross  the  Alps  at  a  sign  of  Prussia;  that  at  the  first  success 
of  Prussia,  the  Italian  troops  will  start  on  their  march  to 
Piome.  Xay,  I  repeat,  it  is  the  Empress  who  will  prove  the 
ruin  of  France." 

That  playful  cry  of  the  Empress,  which  she  was  so  fond  of 
uttering  in  the  begimiing  of  her  married  life,  "  As  for  my- 
self, I  am  a  Legitimist,"  without  understanding,  or  endeavour- 
ing to  understand  its  import,  had  gradually  grafted  itself  on 
her  mind,  although  it  had  ceased  to  be  on  her  lips.  Impa- 
tient of  contradiction,  self-willed  and  tyrannical,  both  by 
nature  and  training,  her  sudden  and  marvellous  elevation  to 
one  of  the  jiroudest  positions  in  Europe  could  not  fail  to 
strengthen  those  defects  of  character.  Superstitions,  like 
most  Spaniards,  she  was  firmly  convinced  that  the  gipsy  who 
foretokl  her  future  greatness  was  a  J^ivine  messenger,  aiul 
from  that  to  the  conviction  that  she  occupied  the  throne  by 
a  right  as  Divine  as  that  claimed  by  the  liourbons  there  was 
but  one  short  step.  A  corollary  to  Divine  right  meant,  to 
her,  personal  and  irresponsible  goveriiment.  That  was  her 
idea  of  legitimism.'  Though  by  no  means  endowed  witli  high 
intellectual  gifts,  she  perceived  well  enough,  in  the  beginning, 


392  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

that  the  Second  Empire  was  not  a  very  stable  edifice,  either 
with  regard  to  its  foundations  or  superstructure,  and,  until 
England  propped  it  up  by  an  alliance,  and  a  State  visit  from 
our  sovereign,  she  kept  commendably  coy.  But  from  that 
moment  she  aspired  to  be  something  more  than  the  arbiter 
of  fashion.  As  I  have  already  said,  she  failed  in  prevailing 
upon  the  Emperor  to  go  to  the  Crimea.  In  '59  she  was  more 
successful,  in  '65  she  was  more  successful  still.  In  the  former 
year,  she  laid  the  foundation  of  what  was  called  the  Empress's 
party ;  in  the  latter,  the  scaffolding  was  removed  from  the 
structure,  henceforth  the  work  was  done  inside.  She,  no 
more  than  her  surroundings,  had  the  remotest  idea  that 
France  was  gradually  undergoing  a  political  change,  that  she 
was  recovering  her  constitutional  rights.  Her  party  was  like 
the  hare  in  the  fable  that  used  the  wrong  end  of  the  opera- 
glass,  and  lived  in  a  fool's  paradise  with  regard  to  the  distance 
that  divided  them  from  the  sportsman,  until  he  was  fairly 
upon  them,  in  the  shape  of  the  liberal  ministry  of  the  2nd 
of  January,  1870. 

M.  Emile  OUivier,  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  refused  to  be 
guided  by  his  predecessors.  He  studiously  avoided  informing 
the  Empress  of  the  affairs  of  State,  let  alone  discussing  them 
with  her.  Apart  from  the  small  fry  of  the  Imperial  party, 
he  made  two  powerful  enemies — the  Empress  herself,  and 
Eouher,  who  saw  in  this  refusal  to  follow  precedent  an  im- 
plied censure  upon  himself.  Rouher,  I  repeat  once  more, 
was  honest  to  the  backbone,  but  fond  of  personal  power. 
The  Empire  to  him  meant  nothing  but  the  Emperor,  the 
Empress,  and  the  heir  to  the  throne  ;  just  as  Germany  meant 
nothing  to  Bismarck  but  the  Hohenzollern  dynasty.  He 
was  one  of  the  first  to  proclaim,  loudly  and  openly,  that  the 
plebiscite  of  the  8th  of  May  meant  an  overwhelming  mani- 
festation, not  in  favour  of  the  liberal  Empire,  but  in  favour 
of  the  Emperor;  and  when  the  latter,  to  do  him  justice, 
declined  to  look  at  it  in  that  light,  he  deserted  him  for  the 
side  of  his  wife.  It  is  an  open  secret  that  the  first  use  the 
Empress  meant  to  make  of  her  power  as  regent,  after  the 
first  signal  victory  of  French  arms,  was  to  sweep  away  the 
cabinet  of  the  2nd  of  January.  The  Imperial  decree  con- 
ferring the  regency  upon  her,  "during  the  absence  of  the 
Emperor  at  the  head  of  his  army,"  and  dated  the  22nd  of 
July,  invested  her  with  very  limited  power. 

Meanwhile,  pending  the  departure  of  the  Emperor,  Paris 


SPECTACULAR  PROLOGUES.  393 

was  in  a  ferment,  but,  to  the  careful  observer,  it  was  no 
longer  the  unalloyed  enthusiasm  of  the  first  few  days.  There 
were  just  as  many  people  in  the  streets ;  the  shouts  of  "  A 
Berlin  !  "  though,  perhaps,  not  so  sustained,  were  just  as  loud 
every  now  and  then ;  the  troops  leaving  for  the  front  received 
tremendous  ovations,  and  more  substantial  proofs  of  the  peo- 
ple's goodwill ;  the  man  who  dared  to  pronounce  the  word 
"peace"  ran  a  great  risk  of  being  rent  to  pieces  by  the 
crowds — a  thing  Avhich  almost  liappened  one  night  in  front 
of  the  Cafe  de  Madrid,  on  the  Boulevard  Montmartre :  still, 
the  enthusiasm  was  not  the  same.  "  There  seems  to  be  a 
great  deal  of  prologue  to  '  The  Taming  of  that  German 
Shrew,' "  said  a  French  friend,  who  was  pretty  familiar  with 
Shakespeare ;  and  he  was  not  far  wrong,  for  the  Christopher 
Sly  abounded.  The  bivouacs  of  the  troops  about  to  take 
their  departure  reminded  one  somewhat  more  forcibly  of 
operatic  scenes  and  equestrian  dramas  of  the  circus  type  than 
of  the  preparations  for  the  stern  necessities  of  war — with  this 
difference,  that  the  contents  of  the  goblet  were  real,  and 
the  viands  not  made  of  cardboard.  "  They  are  like  badly 
made  cannons,  these  soldiers,"  said  some  one  else  :  "  they  are 
crammed  up  to  the  muzzle,  and  they  do  not  go  off."  In 
short,  the  more  sensible  of  the  Paris  population  began  to 
conclude  that  a  little  less  intoning  of  patriotic  strophes  and 
a  good  deal  more  of  juxtaposition  with  the  German  troops 
was  becoming  advisable.  The  reports  of  the  few  preliminary 
skirmishes  that  had  taken  place  were  no  doubt  favourable  to 
the  French;  at  the  same  time,  there  was  no  denying  the 
fact  that  they  had  taken  place  on  French  and  not  on  Ger- 
man territory,  Avhich  was  not  quite  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  oft-repeated  cry  of  "A  Berlin  ! "  In  accordance 
with  the  programme  of  which  that  cry  was  the  initial  quota- 
tion, the  French  ought,  by  this  time,  to  have  been  already 
half  on  their  way  to  the  Prussian  capital.  That  is  what  sen- 
sible, nay,  clever  people  expressed  openly.  Nevertheless,  the 
cry  continued,  nor  was  there  any  escape  from  the  "  Marseil- 
laise," either  by  day  or  night.  Every  now  and  then  a  more 
than  usually  dense  group  might  be  seen  at  a  street  corner. 
The  centre  of  the  group  was  composed  of  a  woman,  with  a 
baby  in  her  arms ;  the  little  one  could  scarcely  speak,  but  its 
tiny  voice  reproduced  more  or  less  accurately  the  air  of  the 
"  Marseillaise  : "  a  deep  silence  prevailed  during  the  perform- 
ance in  order  to  give  the  infant  a  fair  chance ;  deafenmg  ap- 


394  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

plause  greeted  the  termination  of  the  solo,  and  a  shower  of 
coppers  fell  into  the  real  or  pseudo  mother's  lap.  On  the 
18th  of  July,  the  day  of  the  official  declaration  of  war  in 
Paris,  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  performed  "  Le  Lion  Amou- 
reux  "  of  Ponsard.*  At  the  end  of  the  second  act,  the  public 
clamoured  for  the  "Marseillaise."  There  was  not  a  single 
member  of  the  company  capable  of  complying  with  the  re- 
quest, "  so  the  stage  manager  for  the  week  "  had  to  come 
forward  and  ask  for  a  two-days'  adjournment,  during  which 
some  one  might  study  it.  Of  course,  the  Jionour  of  sing- 
ing the  revolutionary  hymn  was  to  devolve  upon  a  woman, 
according  to  the  precedent  established  in  '48,  when  Eachel 
had  intoned  it.  From  what  I  learnt  a  few  days  afterwards, 
the  candidates  for  the  distinguished  task  were  not  many,  in 
spite  of  the  tacit  consent  of  the  Government.  The  ladies  of 
the  company,  most  of  whom,  like  their  fellow-actors,  had 
been  always  very  cordially  treated  by  the  Emperor  on  the 
occasion  of  their  professional  visits  to  Saint-Cloud,  Com- 
pi^gne,  and  Fontainebleau,  instinctively  guessed  the  pain  the 
concession  must  have  caused  the  chief  of  the  State,  and  un- 
der some  pretext  declined.  Mdlle.  Agar  accepted,  and  sang 
the  "  Marseillaise,"  in  all  forty-four  times,  from  the  20th  of 
July  to  the  17th  of  September,  the  day  of  the  final  invest- 
ment of  the  capital  by  the  German  armies. 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  though,  that  the  Government 
had  waited  until  the  day  of  the  official  declaration  of  war  to 
sanction  the  performance  of  the  "  Marseillaise  "  in  places  of 
public  resort.  I  remember  crossing  the  Gardens  of  the  Tui- 
leries  in  the  afternoon  of  Sunday,  the  17th  of  July.  One  of 
the  military  bands  was  performing  a  selection  of  music.  The 
custom  of  doing  so  during  the  summer  months  has  prevailed 
for  many  years,  both  in  the  capital  and  in  the  principal  gar- 
rison towns  of  the  provinces.  All  at  once  they  struck  up  the 
"  Marseillaise."  I  looked  with  surprise  at  my  companion,  a 
member  of  the  Emperor's  household.  He  caught  the  drift 
of  my  look. 

"  It  is  by  the  Emperor's  express  command,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  the  national  war-song.  In  fact,  it  is  that  much  more  than 
a  revolutionary  hymn." 

"  But  war  has  not  been  declared,"  I  objected.        ' 

*  I  believe  there  exists  an  English  version  of  the  play,  entitled  "  A  Son  of 
the  Soil."    I  am  not  certain  of  the  title. — ^£oitob. 


THE  MARSEILLAISE. 


395 


"  It  will  be  to-morrow,"  was  the  answer. 

The  public,  which  in  this  instance  was  mainly  composed 
of  the  better  classes,  apparently  refused  to  consider  the  "  Mar- 
seillaise "  a  national  war-song,  and  applause  at  its  termination 
was  but  very  lukewarm. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  scene  I  witnessed  in  connec- 
tion with  the  departure  of  tlie  Germans  on  that  same  Sunday 
early  in  the  morning,  and  have  also  noted  the  demonstration 
in  front  of  the  German  Embassy  on  the  previous  Friday  night. 
I  will  not  be  equally  positive  with  regard  to  the  exact  dates 
of  the  succeeding  exhibitions  of  bad  taste  on  the  part  of  the 
Parisians,  but  I  remember  a  very  striking  one  which  hap- 
pened between  the  official  declaration  of  war  and  the  end  of 
July.  It  was  brought  under  my  notice,  not  by  a  foreigner, 
but  by  a  Frenchman,  who  was  absolutely  disgusted  with  it. 
We  were  sitting  one  evening  outside  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix, 
which,  being  the  resort  of  some  noted  Imperialists,  I  had 
begun  to  visit  more  frequently  than  I  had  done  hitherto. 
There  was  a  terrible  din  on  the  Boulevards :  the  evening 
papers  had  just  published  a  very  circumstantial  account  of 
that  insignificant  skirmish  which  cost  Lieutenant  Winslow 
his  life,  and  in  which  the  French  had  taken  a  couple  of 
prisoners.  "They"  (the  prisoners),  suggested  an  able  edi- 
tor, "  ought  to  be  brought  to  Paris  and  publicly  exhibited 
as  an  example."  "  And,  what  is  more,"  said  my  friend  who 
had  read  the  paragraph  to  me,  "he  means  what  he  says. 
These  are  the  descendants  of  a  nation  who  prides  herself 
on  having  said  at  Fontenoy,  '  Messieurs,  les  Anglais  tirez  les 
premiers,'  which,  by-the-by,  they  did  not  say.*  If  you  care 
to  come  with  me,  I'll  show  you  what  would  be  the  probable 


*  It  was,  in  fact,  an  English  officer  who  shouted,  "  Messieurs  des  gardes 
frangaises,  tirez ; "  to  which  the  French  replied,  "  Messieurs,  nous  ne  tirons 
jamais  les  premiers ;  tirez  vous  memes. '  But  it  was  not  politeness  that  dic- 
tated the  reply  ;  it  was  the  expression  of  the  acknowledged  and  constantly  in- 
culcated doctrine  that  all  infantry  troops  whicli  fired  the  first  were  indubitably 
beaten.  We  find  the  doctrine  clearly  stated  in  the  infantry  instructions  of 
1672,  and  subsequently  in  the  following  order  of  Louis  XIV.  to  his  troops : 
"  The  soldier  shall  be  taught  not  to  fire  the  first,  and  to  stand  the  fire  of  the 
enemy,  seeing  that  an  enemy  wlio  has  fired  is  assuredly  beaten  when  his  ad- 
versary has  his  powder  left."  At  the  battle  of  Dettingen,  consequentlv,  two 
years  before  Fontenoy,  the  theory  had  been  carried  beyond  the  absurd  by  ex- 
pressly forbidding  the  Gardes  to  fire,  though  they  were  raked  down  by  the 
enemy's  bullets.  Maurice  de  Saxe  makes  it  a  point  to  praise  the  wisdom  of  a 
colonel  who,  in  order  to  prevent  his  troops  from  firing,  constantly  made  them 
shoulder  their  muskets. — Editor. 


396  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

fate  of  such  prisoners  if  the  writer  of  that  paragraph  had  his 
will." 

So  said ;  so  done.  In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we.  were 
seated  at  the  Cafe  de  I'Horloge,  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  and 
my  friend  was  holding  out  five  francs  fifty  centimes  in  pay- 
ment for  two  small  glasses  of  so-called  "  Fine  Champagne," 
plus  the  waiter's  tip.  The  admission  was  gratis;  and  the 
difference  between  those  who  went  in  and  those  who  remained 
outside  was  that  the  latter  could  hear  the  whole  of  the  per- 
formance without  seeing  it,  and  without  disbursing  a  farthing ; 
while  the  former  could  see  the  whole  of  the  performance 
without  hearing  a  note,  for  the  din  there  was  also  infernal. 
Shortly  after  our  arrival,  the  band  struck  up  the  inevitable 
"  Marseillaise,"  but  the  audience  neither  listened  nor  ap- 
plauded. 

This  was,  after  all,  but  the  overture  to  the  entertainment 
to  which  my  friend  had  invited  me,  and  which  consisted  of  a 
spectacular  pantomime  representing  an  engagement  between 
a  regiment  or  a  battalion  of  Zouaves  and  Germans.  As  a 
matter  of  course,  the  latter  had  the  worst  of  it ;  and,  at  the 
termination,  a  couple  of  them  were  brought  in  and  compelled 
to  sue  for  mercy  on  their  knees.  I  am  bound  to  say  that  the 
thing  hung  fire  altogether,  and  that,  but  for  the  remarkable 
selection  of  handsome  legs  of  the  Zouaves,  not  even  the  hare- 
brained young  fellows  with  which  the  audience  was  largely 
besprinkled  would  have  paid  any  attention. 

In  the  whole  of  Paris  there  was  no  surer  centre  of  infor- 
mation of  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  front  than  the  Cafe  de  la 
Paix.  It  was  the  principal  resort  of  the  Bonapartists.  There 
were  Pietri,  the  prefect  of  police,  Sampierro,  Abatucci,  and  a 
score  or  two  of  others ;  all  cultivating  excellent  relations  with 
the  Chdteau.  There  was  also  the  General  Beaufort  d'Haut- 
poul,  to  whom  Bismarck  subsequently,  through  the  pen  of 
Dr.  Moritz  Busch,  did  the  greatest  injury  a  man  can  do  to  a 
soldier,  in  accusing  him  of  drunkenness  when  he  came  to 
settle  some  of  the  military  conditions  of  the  armistice  at  Ver- 
sailles. He  was,  as  far  as  I  remember,  one  of  the  two  supe- 
rior French  officers  who  estimated  at  its  true  value  the 
strategic  genius  of  Von  Moltke.  The  other  was  Colonel 
Stoffel.  But  General  d'Hautpoul  was  even  better  enabled  to 
judge ;  he  had  seen  Moltke  at  work  in  Syria  more  than  thirty 
years  before.  He  was  in  reality  the  Solomon  Eagle  of  the 
campaign,  before  a  single  shot  had  been  fired.     "  I  know  our 


A  SOLOMON  EAGLE.  397 

army,  and  I  know  Helmuth  von  Moltke,"  he  said,  shaking 
his  head  desijondingly,  "  If  every  one  of  our  officers  were 
his  equal  in  strategy,  the  chance  would  then  only  be  equal. 
Moltke  has  the  gift  of  the  great  billiard-player ;  he  knows 
beforehand  the  exact  results  of  a  shock  between  two  bodies 
at  a  certain  angle.     We  are  a  doomed  nation." 

As  a  matter  of  course,  his  friends  were  very  wroth  at 
what  they  called  "  his  unpatriotic  language,"  and  when  the 
nev/s  of  the  engagement  at  Saarbruck  arrived  they  crowed 
over  him ;  but  he  stuck  to  his  text.  "  It  is  simply  a  feint  on 
Moltke's  part,  and  proves  nothing  at  all.  In  two  or  three 
days  we'll  get  the  news  of  a  battle  that  will  decide,  not  only 
the  fate  of  the  whole  campaign,  but  the  fate  of  the  Empire 
also." 

Two  days  afterwards,  I  met  him  near  the  Eue  Saint- 
Florentin ;  he  looked  absolutely  crestfallen.  "  We  have  suf- 
fered a  terrible  defeat  near  Wissembourg,  but  do  not  breathe 
a  word  of  it  to  any  one.  The  Government  is  waiting  for  a 
victory  on  some  other  point,  and  then  it  will  publish  the  two 
accounts  together." 

The  Government  was  reckoning  without  the  newspapers, 
French  and  foreign.  The  latter  might  be  confiscated,  and 
in  fact  were,  such  as  the  Times  and  V Independance  Beige ; 
but  the  French,  notwithstanding  the  temporary  law  of  M. 
Emile  Ollivier,  were  more  difficult  to  deal  with.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  if  they  had  foreseen  the  terrible  fate  that 
was  to  befall  the  French  armies  they  would  have  been  more 
amenable,  but  in  the  beginning  they  anticipated  nothing  but 
startling  victories,  and,  as  such,  looked  upon  the  campaign  in 
the  light  of  a  series  of  brilliant  spectacular  performances, 
glowing  accounts  of  which  were  essentially  calculated  to  in- 
crease their  circulation.  When  MM.  Garden  and  Chabrillat, 
respectively  of  the  Gaidois  and  Figaro,  were  released  by  the 
Prussians,  they  told  many  amusing  stories  to  that  effect,  un- 
consciously confirming  the  opinion  I  have  already  expressed ; 
but  the  following,  which  I  had  from  the  lips  of  Edmond 
About  himself,  is  better  than  any  I  can  remember. 

A  correspondent  of  one  of  the  best  Paris  newspapers,  on 
his  arrival  at  the  head-quarters  of  "  the  army  of  the  Rhine," 
applied  to  the  aide-major-general  for  permission  to  follow  the 
operations.  He  had  a  good  many  credentials  of  more  or  less 
weight ;  nevertheless  the  aide-major-general,  in  view  of  the 
formal  orders  of  the  Emperor  and  Marshal  Leboeuf,  felt 


398  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

bound  to  refuse  the  request.  The  journalist,  on  the  other 
hand,  declined  to  take  "  no  "  for  an  answer.  "  I  have  come 
with  the  decided  intention  to  do  justice,  and  more  than  jus- 
tice, perhaps,  to  your  talent  and  courage,  and  it  would  be  a 
pity  indeed  if  I  were  not  given  the  opportunity,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  was  the  reply ;  "  but  I  cannot  depart 
from  the  rules  for  any  one." 

"  But  our  paper  has  a  very  large  circulation." 

"  All  the  more  reason  to  refuse  you  the  authorization  to 
follow  the  staff." 

The  journalist  would  not  look  at  matters  in  that  light. 
He  felt  that  he  was  conferring  a  favour,  just  as  he  would 
have  felt  in  offering  the  advantage  of  a  cleverly  written  puff 
of  a  premiere  to  a  theatrical  manager.  Seeing  that  his  argu- 
ments were  of  no  avail,  he  delivered  his  parting  shot. 

"  This,  then,  general,  is  your  final  decision.  I  am  afraid 
you'll  have  cause  to  regret  this,  for  we,  on  our  side,  are  de- 
termined not  to  give  this  war  the  benefit  of  publicity  in  our 
columns." 

M.  Emile  Ollivier's  original  decision  was  the  right  one, 
but,  instead  of  embodying  it  in  a  temporary  and  exceptional 
order,  he  ought  to  have  made  it  a  permanent  law  in  times  of 
peace  as  well  as  war.  On  Saturday,  the  16th  of  July,  Count 
Culemburg,  the  Prussian  Minister  of  the  Interior,  addressed 
a  circular  to  the  German  papers,  recommending  them  to  ab- 
stain from  giving  any  news,  however  insignificant,  with  re- 
gard to  the  movements  of  the  troops.  As  far  as  I  remember, 
the  German  editors  neither  protested,  nor  endeavoured  to 
shirk  the  order ;  they  raised  no  outcry  against  "  the  muzzling 
of  the  press."  Five  days  later,  the  French  minister  was  at- 
tacked by  nearly  every  paper  in  France  for  attempting  to  do 
a  similar  thing,  and,  rather  than  weather  that  storm  in  a  tea- 
cup, he  consented  to  a  compromise,  and  condescended  to  ask 
where  he  might  have  commanded.  In  addition  to  this,  he 
undertook  that  the  Government  itself  should  be  the  pur- 
veyor of  war-news  to  the  papers.  Every  editor  of  standing 
in  Paris  knew  that  this  meant  garbled,  if  not  altogether 
mythical,  accounts  of  events,  and  that  even  these  would  be 
held  back  until  they  could  be  held  back  no  longer.  In  a 
few  days  their  worst  apprehensions  in  that  respect  were  con- 
firmed. While  Paris  was  still  ignorant  of  the  terrible  dis- 
aster at  Wissembourg,  the  whole  of  Europe  rang  with  the 
tidings.    Then  came  the  false  report  of  a  brilliant  victory 


WAR  CORRESPONDENTS.  399 

from  the  Government  agency.  It  made  the  Parisians  frantic 
Avith  joy,  but  the  frenzy  changed  into  one  of  anger  when  the 
truth  became  known  through  the  maudlin  and  lachrymose 
despatches  from  the  Imperial  head-quarters,  albeit  that  they 
by  no  means  revealed  the  whole  extent  of  the  defeats  suffered 
at  Woerth  and  Spicheren. 

Nevertheless,  the  agency  continued  the  even — or  rather 
uneven — tenor  of  its  way  up  to  the  last.  The  Republicans 
subsequently  adopted  the  tactics  of  the  Imperial  Government, 
the  Communists  adhered  to  the  system  of  those  they  had 
temporarily  ousted.  In  the  present  note,  I  will  deal  only 
with  events  up  to  the  4th  of  September.  Patent  as  it  must 
have  been  to  the  merest  civilian,  that  the  commanders  were 
simply  committing  blunder  after  blunder,  the  movements  of 
Bazaine  were  represented  by  the  agency  as  the  result  of  a 
masterly  and  profound  calculation.  Even  such  a  pessimist 
as  General  Beaufort  d'Hautpoul  was  taken  in  by  those  repre- 
sentations. He  considered  the  "  masterly  inactivity  "  of  Ba- 
zaine as  an  inspiration  of  genius.  "  He  is  keeping  two  hundred 
thousand  German  troops  round  Metz,"  he  said  several  times. 
"  These  two  hundred  thousand  men  are  rendered  absolutely 
useless  while  we  are  recruiting  our  armies  and  reorganizing 
our  forces."  He  seemed  altogether  oblivious  of  the  fact  that 
these  two  hundred  thousand  Germans  were  virtually  the 
gaolers  of  France's  best  army. 

I  am  unable  to  say  whether  General  d'Hautpoul  was  in 
direct  or  indirect  communication  with  the  agency^  or  Avhether 
some  ingenious  scribe  belonging  to  it  had  overheard  his  ex- 
pressions of  admiration  and  wilfully  adopted  them ;  certain 
it  is  that  the  agency  was  the  first  to  inspire  the  reporters  of 
those  papers  who  took  their  cue  from  it  with  the  flattering 
epithet  of  "glorious  Bazaine." 

It  was  the  same  with  regard  to  Palikao.  His  sententious 
commonplaces  were  reported  as  so  many  oracular  revelations 
dragged  reluctantly  from  him.  Had  they  been  more  familiar 
with  Shakespeare  than  they  were,  or  are,  the  scribes  would 
have  made  Palikao  exclaim  with  Macbeth,  "  The  greatest  is 
behind."  And  all  the  while  the  troops  were  marching  and 
countermarching  at  haphazard,  without  a  preconceived  plan, 
jeering  at  their  leaders,  and  openly  insulting  the  "  phantom  " 
Emperor,  as  they  did  at  Chalons,  for  he  was  already  no  more 
than  that.  The  fall  of  the  Empire  does  not  date  from  Sedan, 
but  from  Woerth  and  Spicheren ;  and  those  most  pertinently 


400  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

aware  of  it  were  not  the  men  who  dealt  it  the  final  blow  less 
than  a  month  later,  but  the  immediate  entourage  of  the  Em- 
press at  the  Tuileries. 

For  from  that  moment  (the  6th  or  7th  of  August)  the  en- 
tourage of  the  Empress  began  to  think  of  saving  the  Empire 
by  sacrificing,  if  needs  be,  the  Emperor.  "  There  is  only  one 
thing  that  can  avert  the  ruin  of  the  dynasty,"  said  a  lady-in- 
waiting  on  the  Empress,  to  a  near  relative  of  mine ;  "  and 
that  is  the  death  of  the  Emperor  at  the  head  of  his  troops. 
That  death  would  be  considered  an  heroic  one,  and  would 
benefit  the  Prince  Imperial." 

I  do  not  pretend  to  determine  how  far  the  Empress  shared 
that  opinion,  but  here  are  some  facts  not  generally  known, 
even  to  this  day,  and  for  the  truth  of  which  I  can  unhesi- 
tatingly vouch. 

The  Empress  did  not  know  of  the  consultation  that  had 
taken  place  on  the  1st  of  July,  and  to  which  I  have  already 
referred.  But  she  did  know  that  the  Emperor  was  suffering 
from  a  very  serious  complaint,  and  that  the  disease  had  been 
aggravated  since  his  departure  through  his  constantly  being 
on  horseback.  M.  Franceschini  Pietri,  the  private  secretary 
of  the  Emperor,  had  informed  her  to  that  effect  on  the  7th 
of  August,  when  Forbach  and  Woerth  had  been  fought.  He 
also  told  her  that  the  Emperor  was  not  unwilling  to  return 
to  Paris,  and  to  leave  the  command-in-chief  to  Bazaine,  but 
that  his  conscience  and  his  pride  forbade  him  to  do  so,  unless 
some  pressure  were  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  I  repeat,  I 
can  vouch  for  this,  because  I  had  it  from  the  lips  of  M. 
Pietri,  who  was  prefect  of  police  until  the  4th  of  Septem- 
ber. 

Meanwhile,  others,  besides  M.  Franceschini  Pietri,  had 
noticed  the  evident  moral  and  mental  depression  of  the  Em- 
peror, increased,  no  doubt,  by  his  acute  physical  sufferings, 
which  were  patent  to  almost  every  one  with  whom  he  came 
in  immediate  contact ;  for  an  eye-witness  wrote  to  me  on  the 
4th  of  August :  "  The  Emperor  is  in  a  very  bad  state ;  after 
Saarbruck,  Lebrun  and  Leboeuf  had  virtually  to  lift  him  off 
his  horse.  The  young  prince,  who,  as  you  have  probably 
heard  already,  was  by  his  side  all  the  time,  looked  very  dis- 
tressed, for  his  father  had  scarcely  spoken  to  him  during  the 
engagement.  But  after  they  got  into  the  carriage,  which 
was  waiting  about  a  dozen  yards  away,  the  Emperor  put  his 
arm  round  his  neck  and  kissed  him  on  the  cheeks,  while  two 


THE  EMPEROR'S  ILLNESS.  40X 

large  tears  rolled  down  his  now.  I  noticed  that  the  Emperor 
had  scarcely  strength  to  walk  that  dozen  yards." 

Leboeuf,  who,  like  a  great  many  more,  has  suffered  to  a 
certain  extent  for  the  faults  of  Marshal  JSlel,  perceived  well 
enough  that  something  had  to  be  done  to  cheer  the  Emperor 
in  his  misfortunes.  It  was  he  who  proposed  that  the  latter 
should  return  to  Paris,  accompanied  by  him,  while  the  corps 
d'armee  of  Frossard,  which  had  effected  its  retreat  in  good 
order,  and  several  other  divisions  that  had  not  been  under 
fire  as  yet,  should  endeavour  to  retrieve  matters  by  attacking 
the  armies  of  Von  Steinmetz  and  Frederick- Charles,  which 
at  that  identical  moment  were  only  in  "  course  of  formation." 
But  Louis-Napoleon,  while  admitting  the  wisdom  of  the 
plan,  sadly  shook  his  head,  and  declared  that  he  could  not 
relinquish  the  chief  command  in  view  of  the  double  defeat 
the  army  had  suffered  under  his  leadership. 

What  had  happened,  then,  during  the  twenty-four  hours 
immediately  following  the  telegram  of  M.  Franceschini  Pie- 
tri?  Simply  this:  not  only  had  the  Empress  refused  to 
exercise  the  pressure  which  would  have  afforded  her  husband 
an  excuse  for  his  return,  but  she  had  thrown  cold  water  on 
the  idea  of  that  return  by  a  despatch  virtually  discountenan- 
cing that  return.  The  cabinet  had  not  been  consulted  in  this 
instance. 

Nay,  more ;  the  cabinet  on  the  7th  of  August  despatched, 
in  secret,  M.  Maurice  Eichard,  Minister  of  Arts,  which  at 
that  time  was  distinct  from  the  Ministry  of  Public  Instruc- 
tion, to  inquire  into  the  state  of  health  of  the  Emperor  and 
the  degree  of  confidence  with  which  he  inspired  the  troops. 
That  was  on  the  7th  of  August.  He  went  by  special  train  to 
Metz.  Two  hours  after  he  was  gone,  Adolphe  Ollivier  told 
me  and  Ferrari  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix.  A  few  hours  after 
his  return  next  day,  he  told  us  the  result  of  those  inquiries. 
M.  Eichard  had  brought  back  the  worst  possible  news. 

At  a  council  of  ministers,  held  early  on  the  9th,  M.  Emile 
Ollivier,  in  view  of  the  communication  made  to  him  by  his 
colleague,  proposed  the  immediate  return  of  the  Emperor, 
fully  expecting  M.  Eichard  to  support  him.  The  Empress 
energetically  opposed  the  plan,  and  when  M.  Ollivier  turned, 
as  it  were,  to  M.  Eichard,  the  latter  kept  ominously  silent. 
Not  to  mince  matters,  he  had  been  tampered  with.  M. 
Ollivier  found  hiniself  absolutely  powerless. 

A  day  or  so  before  that — I  will  not  be  positive  as  to  the 


402  -^N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

date — M.  Ollivier  telegraphed  officially  to  the  head-quarters 
at  Metz,  to  request  the  return  of  the  Prince  Imperial,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  generally  expressed  wish  of  the  Paris  pa- 
pers. M.  Pietri  told  me  that  same  day  that  the  minister's 
telegram  had  been  followed  by  one  in  the  Empress's  private 
cipher,  expressing  her  wish  that  the  Prince  Imperial  should 
remain  in  the  army.  She  did  not  explain  why.  She  merely 
recommended  the  Emperor  to  make  the  promise  required, 
and  then  to  pay  no  further  heed  to  it. 

The  regent  had  no  power  to  summon  parliament,  never- 
theless she  did  so,  mainly  in  order  to  overthrow  the  Ollivier 
ministry.  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  the  Emperor  never 
forgave  her  for  it.  If  those  who  were  at  Chislehurst  are 
alive  when  these  notes  appear,  they  will  probably  bear  me 
out. 

What,  in  fact,  could  a  parliament  summoned  under  such 
circumstances  be  but  a  council  of  war,  every  one  of  whose 
decisions  was  canvassed  in  public  and  made  the  enemy  still 
wiser  than  he  was  before?  Of  course,  the  Empress  felt 
certain  that  she  would  be  able  to  dismiss  it  as  easily  as  it  had 
been  summoned ;  she  evidently  did  not  remember  the  fable 
of  the  horse  which  had  invited  the  man  to  get  on  his  back  in 
order  to  fight  the  stag.  There  is  not  the  slightest  doubt 
that,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  the  Empress's  main  pur- 
pose was  the  overthrow  of  the  Ollivier  administration  ;  if 
proof  were  wanted,  the  evidence  of  the  men  who  overthrew 
the  Empire  Avould  be  sufficient  to  establish  the  fact,  and  not 
one,  but  half  a  dozen,  have  openly  stated  that  the  defeat  of 
the  Ollivier  ministry  was  accomplished  with  the  tacit  ap- 
proval of  the  court  party :  read, "  the  party  of  the  Empress," 
to  Avhich  I  have  referred  before. 

The  list  of  the  Empress's  blunders,  involuntary  or  the 
reverse,  is  too  long  to  be  transcribed  in  detail  here  ;  I  return 
to  my  impressions  of  men  and  things  after  my  meeting  with 
General  Beaufort  d'Hautpoul  in  the  Rue  de  Eivoli. 

I  do  not  suppose  that  in  the  whole  of  Paris  there  were  a 
dozen  sensible  men  who  still  cherished  any  illusions  with 
regard  to  the  possibility  of  retrieving  the  disasters  by  a  dash 
into  the  enemy's  country.  The  cry  of  "  A  Berlin ! "  had 
been  finally  abandoned  even  by  the  most  chauvinistic.  But 
the  hope  still  remained  that  the  Prussians  would  be  thrust 
back  from  the  "sacred  soil  of  France  ".  by  some  brilliant 
coup  de  main,  although   I  am  positive  that  the  Empire 


THE  EMPRESS'S  BLUNDERS.  408 

would  have  been  doomed  just  the  same  if  that  hope  had 
been  realized.  Among  those  who  had  faith  in  the  coup 
de  main  were  M.  Paul  de  Cassagnac  and,  curiously  enough, 
General  Beaufort  d'Hautpoul.  He  had  suddenly  conceived 
great  hopes  with  regard  to  Bazaine.  M.  de  Cassagnac 
seriously  contemplated  enlisting  in  the  Zouaves.  Strange  to 
relate,  M.  Paul  de  Cassagnac,  in  spite  of  his  well-known  at- 
tachment to  the  Imperialist  cause,  was  looked  upon,  by  the 
most  determined  opponents  of  that  cause  among  the  masses, 
as  a  man  to  be  trusted  and  consulted  in  a  non-official  way. 
I  remember  being  on  the  Boulevard  one  evening  after  the 
affair  at  Beaumont,  when  the  rage  of  the  population  was 
even  stronger  than  after  the  defeats  at  Woerth  and  Forbach. 
All  of  a  sudden  we  perceived  a  dense  group  swaying  towards 
us — we  were  between  the  Kues  Laffite  and  Le  Peletier — and 
in  the  centre  towered  the  tall  figure  of  M.  de  Cassagnac. 
For  a  moment  we  were  afraid  that  some  mischief  was  being 
contemplated,  the  more  that  we  had  noticed  several  leaders 
of  the  revolutionary  party — or,  to  speak  by  the  card,  of  the 
Blanqui  party — hovering  near  the  Cafe  Kiche.  But  the 
demonstration  was  not  a  hostile  one ;  on  the  contrary,  it  had 
a  friendly  tendency,  and  showed  a  tacit  acknowledgment 
that,  whosoever  else  might  hide  the  truth  from  them,  M.  de 
Cassagnac  would  not  do  so.  "  What  about  rifles,  M.  Paul  ?  " 
was  the  cry ;  "  are  there  sufficient  for  us  all  ?  "  It  must  be 
remembered  that  the  levee  en  masse  had  been  decreed.  M. 
de  Cassagnac  could  not  tell  the  truth,  and  would  not  tell  a 
lie.  He  frankly  said,  "  I  don't  know."  We  noticed  also  that 
at  his  approach  the  Blanquists  slunk  away.  The  Empire 
had  been  tottering  on  its  base  until  then ;  after  Beaumont 
it  was  virtually  doomed. 


404  -^  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

The  4tli  of  September— A  comic,  not  a  tragic  revolution— A  burlesque  Harold 
and  a  burlesque  Boadicea — The  news  of  Sedan  only  known  publicly  on 
the  3rd  of  September — Grief  and  consternation,  but  no  rage — The  latter 
feeling  imported  by  the  bands  of  Delescluze,  Blanqui,  and  Felix  Pyat — 
Blanqui,  ryat,  &  Co.  versus  Favre,  Gambetta,  &  Co. — The  former  want 
their  share  of  the  spoil,  and  only  get  it  some  years  afterwards — Eamail  goes 
to  the  Palais-Bourbon — His  report — Paris  spends  the  night  outdoors — 
Thiers  a  second-rate  Talleyrand — HLs  joume\"  to  the  ditferent  courts  of 
Europe — His  interview  with*  Lord  Granville — The  4th  of  September — The 
Imperial  eagles  disappear — Thejovoasness  of  the  crowd — The  Place  do  la 
Concorde — The  gardens  of  the  Tuileries — The  crowds  in  tlie  Eue  de  Eivoli 
scarcely  pay  attention  to  the  Tuileries — The  soldiers  fraternizing  with  the 
people,  and  proclaiming  the  republic  from  the  barracks'  windows-— A  seri- 
ous procession — Sampierro  Gavini  gives  his  opinion — The  "  heroic  strug- 
gles "  of  an  Empress,  and  the  crownless  coronation  of  "  le  Roi  P^taud  " — 
Kamail  at  the  Tuileries — How  M.  Sardou  saved  the  palace  from  being 
burned  and  sacked — The  republic  proclaimed — Illuminations  as  after  a 
victory. 

Only  those  who  were  at  a  distance  from  Paris  on  the  4th 
of  September,  1870,  can  be  deluded  into  the  belief  that  the 
scenes  enacted  there  on  that  day  partook  of  a  dramatic  char- 
acter. Carefully  and  scrupulously  dovetailed,  they  constitute 
one  vast  burlesque  of  a  revolution.  It  is  not  because  the 
overthrow  of  the  Second  Empire  was  accomplished  without 
bloodshed  that  I  say  this.  Bloodshed  would  have  only  made 
the  burlesque  more  gruesome,  but  it  could  have  never  con- 
verted it  into  a  tragedy,  the  recollection  of  which  would  have 
made  men  think  and  shudder  even  after  the  lapse  of  many 
years.  As  it  is,  the  recollection  of  the  4th  of  September  can 
only  make  the  independent  witness  smile.  On  the  one  hand, 
a  burlesque  Harold  driven  off  to  Wilhelmshohe  in  a  landau, 
surrounded  by  a  troop  of  Uhlans  ;  and  a  burlesque  Boadicea 
slinking  off  in  a  hackney  cab,  minus  the  necessary  handker- 
chiefs for  the  cold  in  her  head, — "  fleeing  when  no  one  pur- 
sueth,"  instead  of  poisoning  herself :  on  the  other,  "  ceux 
qui  prennen  tla  parol  epour  autrui,"  i.e.  the  lawyers,  prenant 
le  pouvoir  pour  eux-m^mes.     Really,  the  only  chronicler  ca- 


THE  4TH  OF  SEPTEMBER.  405 

pable  of  dealing  witli  the  situation  in  the  right  spirit  is  our 
old  and  valued  friend,  Mr.  Punch.  Personally,  from  the 
Saturday  afternoon  until  the  early  hours  on  Monday,  I  saw 
scarcely  one  incident  worthy  of  being  treated  seriously ;  nor 
did  the  accounts  supplied  to  me  by  others  tend  to  modify  my 
impressions. 

Though  the  defeat  at  Sedan  was  virtually  complete  on 
Thursday  the  1st  at  nine  p.m.,  not  the  faintest  rumour  of  it 
reached  Paris  before  Friday  evening  at  an  advanced  hour, 
and  the  real  truth  was  not  known  generally  nntil  the  Satur- 
day at  the  hour  just  named.  There  v/as  grief  and  conster- 
nation on  many  faces,  but  no  expression  of  fury  or  anger. 
That  sentiment,  at  any  rate  in  its  outward  manifestations, 
had  to  be  supplied  from  the  heights  of  Belleville  and  Mont- 
martre,  Montrouge  and  Montparnasse,  when,  later  on,  a  good 
many  of  the  inhabitants  of  tliose  delightful  regions  came 
down  like  an  avalanche  on  the  heart  of  the  city.  They  were 
the  lambs  of  Blanqui,  Delescluze,  Felix  Pyat,  and  Milli^re. 
They  were  dispersed  on  reaching  the  Boulevard  Montmartre, 
and  we  saw  nothing  of  them  from  where  we  were  seated,  at 
the  Cafe  de  la  Paix.  By  the  time  they  rallied  in  the  side 
streets  and  had  marched  to  the  Palais-Bourbon,  they  found 
their  competitors,  Favre,  Gambetta,  &  Co.,  trying  to  oust  the 
ministers  of  the  Empire.  But  for  that  unfortunate  delay  we 
might  have  had  the  Commune  on  the  4th  of  September  in- 
stead of  on  the  18th  of  March  following.  Blanqui,  Pyat,  & 
Co.  never  forgave  Favre,  Gambetta,  &  Co.  for  having  fore- 
stalled them,  and,  above  all,  for  not  having  shared  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  spoil.  This  is  so  true  that,  even  after  many 
years  of  lording  it,  the  successors  of,  and  co-founders  with, 
the  firm  of  Favre,  Gambetta,  &  Co.  have  been  obliged,  not 
only  to  grant  an  amnesty  to  those  whom  they  cheated  at  the 
beginning,  but  to  admit  them  to  some  of  the  benefits  of  the 
undertaking;  Meline,  Tirard,  Eanc,  Alphonse  Humbert, 
Camille  Barrere,  and  a  hundred  others  more  or  less  impli- 
cated in  the  Commune,  are  all  occupying  fat  posts  at  the 
hour  I  write. 

A  friend  of  ours,  whose  impartiality  was  beyond  suspicion, 
and  who  had  more  strength  and  inclination  to  battle  with 
(jrowds  than  any  of  us,  offered  to  go  and  see  how  the  land 
lav  at  the  Palais-Bourbon.  He  returned  in  about  an  hour, 
and  told  us  that  Gambetta,  perched  on  a  chair,  had  been 
addressing  the  crowd  from  behind  the  railings,  exhorting 


406  AN-  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

them  to  patience  and  moderation.  "  Clever  trick  that,"  said 
our  informant ;  "  it's  the  confidence-trick  of  housebreakers 
when  two  separate  gangs  have  designs  upon  the  same  '  crib  ; ' 
while  the  first  arrivals  '  crack '  it,  they  send  one  endowed 
with  the  '  gift  of  the  gab '  to  pacify  the  others." 

One  thing  is  certain — Gambetta  and  his  crew  did  not 
want  to  pursue  the  war,  they  wanted  a  Constituent  Assembly 
which  would  have  left  them  to  enjoy  in  peace  the  fruits  of 
their  usurpation ;  for  theirs  was  as  much  usurpation  as  was 
the  Coup  d'Etat.  Their  subsequent  "  Not  an  inch  of  our 
territory,  not  a  stone  of  our  fortresses,"  was  an  afterthought, 
when  they  found  that  Bismarck  would  not  grant  them  as 
good  a  peace  as  he  would  have  granted  Napoleon  at  Donchery 
the  morning  after  Sedan. 

At  about  ten  on  Saturday  night  everybody  knew  that  there 
would  be  a  night  sitting,  and  I  doubt  whether  one-fourth  of 
the  adult  male  population  of  Paris  went  to  bed  at  all,  even  if 
they  retired  to  their  own  homes. 

Our  friend  returned  to  the  Palais-Bourbon,  but  failed  to 
get  a  trustworthy  account  of  what  had  happened  during  the 
twenty-five  minutes  the  deputies  had  been  assembled.  All 
he  knew  was  that  nominally  the  Empire  was  still  standing, 
though  virtually  it  had  ceased  to  exist ;  a  bill  for  its  deposi- 
tion having  been  laid  on  the  table.  On  his  way  back  to  the 
Boulevards  he  saw  the  carriage  of  Thiers  surrounded,  and  an 
attempt  to  take  out  the  horses.  He  called  Thiers  "  le  receleur 
des  vols  commis  au  prejudice  des  monarchies."  * 

Let  me  look  for  a  moment  at  that  second-rate  Talleyrand, 
who  has  been  grandiloquently  termed  the  "  liberator  of  the 
soil "  because  he  happened  to  do  what  any  intelligent  bank 
manager  could  have  done  as  well ;  let  me  endeavour  to  estab- 
lish his  share  in  the  4th  of  September.  I  am  speaking  on 
the  authority  of  men  who  were  behind  the  political  scenes  for 
many  years,  and  whose  contempt  for  nearly  all  the  actors  was 
equally  great.  Thiers  refused  his  aid  and  counsel  to  the 
Empress,  who  solicited  it  through  the  intermediary  of  Prince 
Metternich  and  M.  Prosper  Merimee,  but  he  also  refused  to 
accept  the  power  offered  to  him  by  Gambetta,  Favre,  Jules 
Simon,  etc.,  in  the  afternoon  of  the  4th  of  September. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  here,  there,  and  everywhere ;  offering 
advice,  but  careful  not  to  take  any  responsibility.    Afterwards 

*  "  The  receiver  of  the  goods  stolen  from  monarchies." — Editoe. 


M.  THIERS.  407 

he  took  a  journey  to  tlie  various  courts  of  Europe.  I  only- 
know  the  particulars  of  one  interview — that  with  Lord  Gran- 
ville— but  I  can  vouch  for  their  truth.  After  having  held 
forth  for  two  hours  without  giving  his  lordship  a  chance  of 
edging  in  a  word  sideways,  he  stopped ;  and  five  minutes 
later,  while  Lord  Granville  Avas  enumerating  the  reasons  why 
the  cabinet  of  St.  James's  could  not  interfere,  he  (Thiers)  was 
fast  asleep.  When  the  conditions  of  peace  were  being  dis- 
cussed, Thiers  was  in  favour  of  giving  up  Belfort  rather  than 
pay  another  milliard  of  francs.  "A  city  you  may  recover,  a 
milliard  of  francs  you  never  get  back,"  he  said.  Neverthe- 
less, historians  will  tell  one  that  Thiers  made  superhuman 
efforts  to  save  Belfort.  I  did  not  like  M.  Thiers,  and,  being 
conscious  of  my  dislike,  I  have  throughout  these  notes  en- 
deavoured to  say  as  little  as  possible  of  him. 

The  sun  rose  radiantly  over  Paris  on  the  4th  of  Sep- 
tember, and  I  was  up  betimes,  though  I  had  not  gone  to  bed 
until  3  a.m.  There  was  a  dense  crowd  all  along  the  Kue 
Eoyale  and  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  several  hours  be- 
fore the  Chamber  had  begun  to  discuss  the  deposition  of  the 
Bonapartes  (which  was  never  formally  voted),  volunteer- 
workmen  were  destroying  or  hauling  down  the  Imperial 
eagles.  The  mob  cheered  them  vociferously,  and  when  one 
of  these  workmen  hurt  himself  severely,  they  carried  him 
away  in  triumph.  Nevertheless,  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
hooting  as  several  well-known  members  of  the  Chamber  el- 
bowed their  way  through  the  serried  masses.  Though  they 
were  well  known,  I  argued  myself  unknown  in  not  knowing 
them.  I  was  under  the  impresssion  that  they  were  Imperial- 
ists ;  they  turned  out  to  be  Kepublicans.  The  marks  of  dis- 
approval proceeded  from  compact  groups  of  what  were  ap- 
parently workmen.  As  I  knew  that  no  workmen  devoted  to 
the  Empire  would  have  dared  to  gather  in  that  way,  even  if 
their  numbers  had  been  sufficient,  and  as  I  felt  reluctant  to 
inquire,  I  came  to  the  natural  conclusion  that  the  hooters 
were  the  supporters  of  Blanqui,  Pyat,  &  Co.  The  Commune 
was  foreshadowed  on  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  on  that  day. 

My  experience  of  the  24th  of  February,  1848,  told  me 
that  the  Chamber  would  be  invaded  before  long.  In  1848 
there  was  no  more  danger  for  a  foreigner  to  mix  with  the 
rabble  than  for  a  Frenchman.  I  felt  not  quite  so  sure  about 
my  safety  on  the  4th  of  September.  My  adventure  in  the 
Avenue  de  Clichy,  which  I  will  relate  anon,  had  not  hap- 


408  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

pened  then,  and  I  was  not  as  careful  as  I  became  afterwards, 
still  I  remembered  in  time  the  advice  of  the  prudent  French- 
man— "  When  in  doubt,  abstain ; "  and  I  prepared  to  retrace 
my  steps  to  the  Boulevards,  where,  I  knew,  there  would  be 
no  mistake  about  my  identity.  At  the  same  time,  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  no  such  accident  as  I  dreaded,  occurred 
during  that  day,  as  far  as  I  am  aware.  There  may  or  may 
not  have  been  at  that  hour  half  a  hundred  spies  of  Bismarck 
in  the  city,  but  no  one  Avas  molested.  The  Parisians  were  so 
evidently  overjoyed  at  getting  rid  of  the  Empire,  that  for 
four  and  twenty  hours,  at  any  rate,  they  forgot  all  about  the 
hated  Germans  and  their  march  upon  the  capital.  They 
were  shaking  hands  with,  and  congratulating  one  another,  as 
if  some  great  piece  of  good  fortune  had  befallen  them. 
Years  before  that,  I  had  seen  my  wife  behave  in  a  similarly 
joyous  manner  after  having  dismissed  at  a  moment's  notice 
a  cook  who  had  shamefully  robbed  us :  the  wife  knew  very 
well  that,  on  the  morrow,  tlie  tradesmen,  the  amount  of 
whose  bills  the  dishonest  servant  had  pocketed  for  months, 
would  be  sending  in  their  claims  upon  us.  "  Perhaps  they 
will  take  into  consideration  that  we  dismissed  her,"  she  said, 
"and  not  hold  us  responsible."  The  Latin  race,  and  espe- 
cially the  French,  are  the  females  of  the  human  race. 

I  noticed  that  the  gates  of  the  Tuileries  gardens  on  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde  were  still  open,  and  that  the  gardens 
themselves  were  black  with  people.  It  must  have  been  about 
half -past  ten  or  eleven.  I  did  not  go  back  by  the  Rue  Royale, 
but  by  the  Rue  de  Rivoli.  The  people  were  absolutely  stream- 
ing down  the  street.  There  was  not  a  single  threatening 
gesture  on  their  part ;  they  merely  looked  at  the  flag  still 
floating  over  the  Tuileries,  and  passed  on.  When  I  got  back 
to  the  Boulevards,  I  sat  down  outside  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix  de- 
termined not  to  stir  if  possible.  I  knew  that  whatever  hap- 
pened the  news  of  it  would  soon  be  brought  thither.  I  was 
not  mistaken. 

The  first  news  we  had  was  that  the  National  Guards  had 
replaced  the  regulars  inside  and  around  the  Palais- Bourbon, 
which  was  either  a  sign  that  the  latter  could  be  no  longer 
depended  upon,  or  that  the  Republicans  in  the  Chamber  had 
carried  that  measure  in  their  own  interest.  I  am  bound  to 
admit  that  I  would  always  sooner  take  the  word  of  a  French 
officer  than  that  of  a  deputy,  of  no  matter  what  shade ;  and 
I  heard  afterwards  that  the  troops  at  the  Napoleon  barracks 


IN  THE  TUILERIES  GARDENS.  409 

and  elsewhere  had  begun  to  fraternize  with  the  people  as 
early  as  eight  in  the  morning,  by  shouting,  from  the  windows 
of  their  rooms,  "  Vive  la  Republique  ! "  The  Chamber  was 
invaded,  nevertheless ;  it  is  as  well  to  state  that  this  invasion 
gave  Jules  Favre  &  Co.  a  chance  of  repairing  in  hot  haste  to 
the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where  the  Government  of  the  National 
Defence  was  proclaimed. 

To  return  to  my  vantage-post  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix. 
The  crowds  on  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  apparently  sta- 
tioned there  since  early  morning,  did  not  seem  to  me  to  have 
been  brought  thither  at  the  instance  of  a  leader  or  in  obedi- 
ence to  a  watchword.  I  except,  of  course,  the  groups  of 
which  I  have  already  spoken,  and  which  jeered  at  the  repub- 
lican deputies.  The  streams  of  people  I  met  on  my  return 
in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  seemed  impelled  by  their  own  curiosity 
to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.  Not  so  the  procession  which 
hove  in  sight  almost  the  moment  I  had  sat  down  at  the  Cafe. 
It  wheeled  to  the  left  when  reaching  the  Rue  de  la  Paix.  It 
was  composed  of  National  Guards  with  and  without  their 
muskets,  each  company  preceded  by  its  own  officers, — the 
armed  ones  infinitely  more  numerous  than  the  unarmed,  but 
all  marching  in  good  order  and  in  utter  silence ;  in  fact,  so 
silently  as  to  bode  mischief.  Behind  and  before  there  strode 
large  contingents  of  ordinary  citizens,  and  I  noticed  two 
things :  that  few  of  them  wore  blouses,  and  that  a  good  many 
wore  kepis,  apparently  quite  new.  The  wearers,  though 
equally  undemonstrative,  gave  one  the  impression  of  being 
the  leaders.  Most  of  those  around  me  shook  their  heads 
ominously  as  they  passed;  their  silence  did  not  impose  upon 
them.  I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  did  not  share  their  opin- 
ion. To  me,  the  whole  looked  like  stern  determined  mani- 
festors ;  not  like  turbulent  revolutionaries.  I  had  seen  noth- 
ing like  them  in  '48.  Nevertheless,  it  was  I  who  was 
mistaken,  for,  according  to  M.  Sampierro  Gavini,  who,  un- 
like his  brother  Denis,  belonged  to  the  opposition  during  the 
Empire,  it  was  they  who  invaded  the  Chamber.  I  may  add 
that  M.  Sampierro  Gavini,  though  in  the  opposition,  had  lit- 
tle or  no  sympathy  with  those  who  overthrew  the  Empire  or 
established  the  Commune.  He  had  an  almost  idealistic  faith 
in  constitutional  means,  and  a  somewhat  exaggerated  rever- 
ence for  the  name  of  Bonaparte.     He  Avas  a  Corsican. 

For  several  hours  nothing  occurred  worthy  of   record. 
The  accounts  brought  to  us  by  eye-witnesses  of  events  going 
18 


410  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

• 

on  simultaneously  at  the  Tuileries  and  the  Palais-Bourbon 
showed  plainly  that  there  was  no  intention  on  the  mob's  part 
to  exalt  the  Empress  into  a  Marie-Antoinette.  Our  friend 
who  had  given  us  the  news  of  the  Chamber  on  the  previous 
night,  and  who  was  a  relative  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Yvan,  an 
habitu6  of  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  had  made  up  his  mind  in  the 
morning  that  "  it  would  be  more  interesting  to  watch  the " 
last  heroic  struggles  of  an  Empress  against  iron  fortune  than 
the  "  crownless  coronation  of  a  half-score  of '  rois  Petauds.' "  * 
As  such,  he  had  taken  up  his  station  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Tuileries,  close  to  the  gate  dividing  the  private  from  the 
public  gardens.  It  was  he  who  gave  us  the  particulars  of 
the  scenes  preceding  and  succeeding  the  Empress's  flight, 
the  exact  moment  of  which  no  one  seemed  to  know.  The 
account  of  these  scenes  was  so  exceedingly  graphic,  that  I 
have  no  difficulty  whatsoever  in  remembering  them.  More- 
over, I  put  down  at  the  time  several  of  his  own  expressions. 
I  do  not  know  what  has  become  of  him.  He  went  to  New- 
Zealand  on  account  of  some  unhappy  love-affair,  and  was 
never  heard  of  any  more.  Though  scarcely  thirty  then,  he 
was  a  promising  young  doctor.  His  name  was  Eamail,  but  I 
do  not  know  in  what  relation  he  stood  to  Dr.  Yvan ;  who, 
however,  always  called  him  cousin. 

Young  Eamail  had  been  in  the  Tuileries  gardens  since 
noon.  The  crowd  was  already  very  large  at  that  hour,  but  it 
seemed  altogether  engrossed  in  the  doings  of  an  individual 
who  was  knocking  down  a  gilded  eagle  on  the  top  of  the 
gate.  "  Mind,"  said  Eamail,  "  that  was  at  twelve  o'clock,  or 
somewhere  thereabouts ;  and  I  do  not  think  that  the  sitting 
at  the  Chamber  began  until  at  least  an  hour  later.  If  the 
Ecpublicans  say,  in  days  to  come,  that  the  Empire  was 
virtually  condemned  before  they  voted  its  overthrow,  they 
will,  at  any  rate,  have  the  semblance  of  truth  on  their  side, 

*  In  olden  times,  every  community,  corporation,  and  guild  in  France  elected 
annually  a  king — even  the  mendicants,  whose  ruler  took  the  title  of  King  Pe- 
taud,  from  the  Latin  peto,  I  ask.  The  latter's  court,  as  a  matter  of  course,  was 
a  perfect  bear-garden,  in  wliich  every  one  did  as  he  liked,  in  which  every  one 
was  as  much  sovereign  as  the  titular  one.  The  expression,  "  the  Court  of  King 
Petaud,"  became  a  synonym  for  everything  that  was  disorderly,  ridiculous,  and 
disgusting. 

"  Oui,  je  sors  de  chez  vous  fort  mal  6difi6e  ; 
Dans  toutes  mes  legons  j'y  suis  contrariee  ; 
On  n'y  rcspecte  rien,  ch'acun  y  parle  haut, 
Et  c'est  tout  justement  la  cour  duroi  Petaud." 

(MoLiKBE,  "  Tartuffe,"  Act  i.  Sc.  1.)— Editor. 


IN  THE  TUILERIES-GARDENS.  411 

because  there  were  at  least  two  thousand  persons  looking  on 
without  trying  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  the  eagles  by 
word  or  deed ;  and  two  thousand  persons,  if  they  happen  to 
agree  with  them,  are  to  the  Republicans  the  whole  of  France ; 
while  two  millions,  if  they  happen  to  differ  from  them,  are 
only  a  corrupt  and  unintelligent  majority. 

"  But  I  was  wondering,"  he  went  on,  "  at  the  utter  in- 
gratitude of  the  lower  and  lower-middle  classes.  I  feel  cer- 
tain that  among  those  who  stood  staring  there,  half  owned 
their  prosperous  condition  to  the  eighteen  years  of  Imperial- 
ism;  yet  I  heard  not  a  single  expression  of  regret  at  the 
brutal  sweeping  away  of  it. 

"  I  may  have  stood  there  for  about  an  hour,  a  score  of 
steps  away  from  the  gate  before  the  swingbridge,  when,  all  at 
once,  I  felt  myself  carried  forward  with  the  crowd ;  and  be- 
fore I  had  time  to  look  round,  I  found  myself  inside  that 
other  gate.  There  were  about  five  hundred  persons  who  had 
entered  with  me,  but  in  what  manner  the  gate  gave  way  or 
was  opened  I  have  not  the  vaguest  idea.  We  went  no  further ; 
we  stopped  as  suddenly  as  we  had  advanced.  I  turned 
round  with  difficulty,  and  looked  over  the  heads  of  those 
behind  me ;  sure  enough,  the  gates  were  wide  open  and  the 
crowd  at  the  rear  was  much  denser  than  it  had  been  ten  min- 
utes before.  Still  they  stood  perfectly  still,  without  bringing 
any  pressure  to  bear  upon  us.  Then  I  turned  round  again, 
and  saw  the  cause  of  their  reluctance  to  move.  The  Imperial 
Guard  was  being  massed  in  front  of  the  principal  door  lead- 
ing from  the  private  gardens  into  the  palace.  'My  dear 
Ramail,'  I  said  to  myself,  '  you  stand  a  very  good  chance  of 
having  a  bullet  through  your  head  before  you  are  ten  minutes 
older;  because,  at  the  slightest  move  of  the  crowd  among 
which  you  now  stand,  the  guard  will  fire.'  I  own  that  I  was 
scarcely  prepared  to  face  death  for  such  a  trivial  cause  as 
this;  and  I  was  quietly  edging  my  way  out  of  the  crowd, 
which  was  beginning  to  utter  low  ominous  growls,  when  a 
voice,  ringing  clear  upon  the  air,  shouted,  '  Citoyens ! '  I 
stopped,  turned  round  once  more,  and  stood  on  tiptoe. 

"  The  speaker  was  a  tall,  handsome  fellow,  young  to  all 
appearance,  and  with  a  voice  like  a  bell.  He  looked  a  gentle- 
man, but  I  have  never  seen  him  before  to  my  knowledge. 
His  companion  I  knew  at  once;  it  was  Yictorien  Sardou. 
There  is  no  mistaking  that  face.  I  have  heard  some  people 
say  that  it  is  not  a  bit  like  that  of  the  great  Napoleon,  while 


412  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

others  maintain  that,  placing  the  living  man  and  the  portrait 
of  the  dead  one  side  by  side,  one  could  not  tell  the  difference. 
I'll  undertake  to  say  this,  that  if  M.  Sardou  had  donned  a 
uniform,  such  as  the  lieutenant  of  artillery  wore  at  Areola, 
for  instance,  he  might  have  taken  the  Empress  by  the  hand 
and  led  her  out  safely  among  the  people,  who  would  have 
believed  in  some  miraculous  resurrection. 

"  To  come  back  to  my  story.  '  Citoyens,'  repeated  M. 
Sardou's  companion, '  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  surprise  that 
the  garden  should  not  be  open  to  you  and  its  ingress  forbid- 
den by  soldiers.  The  Tuileries  belong  to  the  people,  now 
that  the  Empire  is  gone  ;  for  gone  it  is  by  this  time,  in  spite 
of  the  Imperial  Guard  massed  before  yonder  door.  Conse- 
quently, my  friend  and  I  propose  to  go  and  ask  for  the  with- 
drawal of  these  soldiers.  But,  in  order  to  do  this,  you  must 
give  us  your  promise  not  to  budge ;  for  the  slightest  attempt 
on  your  part  to  do  so  before  our  return  may  lead  to  blood- 
shed, and  I  am  convinced  that  you  are  as  anxious  as  we  are 
to  avoid  such  a  calamity.' 

"If  that  young  fellow  is  not  an  actor,  ho  ought  to  be. 
Every  word  he  said  could  be  heard  distinctly  and  produced 
its  effect.  The  crowd  cheered  him  and  promised  unani- 
mously to  wait.  Then  we  saw  him  and  M.  Sardou  take  out 
their  handkerchiefs  and  tie  them  to  the  end  of  their  sticks. 
Perhaps  it  was  well  they  did,  for  as  I  saw  them  boldly  walk 
up  the  central  avenue,  I  was  not  at  all  convinced  that  their 
lives  were  not  in  danger.  My  sight  is  excellent,  and  I  no- 
ticed a  decidedly  hostile  movement  on  the  part  of  the  troops 
ranged  in  front  of  the  principal  door,  and  an  officer  of  Mo- 
biles was  evidently  of  my  opinion,  for,  though  he  followed 
them  at  a  distance,  he  kept  prudently  behind  the  trees,  shel- 
tering himself  as  much  as  possible.  I  do  not  pretend  to  be 
wiser  than  most  of  my  fellow-men,  but  I  doubt  whether 
many  among  those  who  watched  M.  Sardou  and  his  com- 
panion suspected  the  true  drift  of  their  self-imposed  mission. 
They  merely  wished  to  save  the  Tuileries  from  being  pil- 
laged and  burnt  down.  I  do  not  wish  to  libel  the  Imperial 
Guard  or  their  officers,  but  I  should  feel  much  surprised  if 
that  noble  idea  ever  entered  their  heads.  What  was  the  mag- 
nificent pile  to  them,  now  that  one  of  their  idols  had  left  it, 
probably  for  ever,  and  the  other  was  about  to  do  the  same  ? 
At  any  rate,  the  suspicious  movement  was  there.  I  have 
forgotten  to  tell  you  that  the  inner  gate  was  closed  and  I  saw 


M.  VICTORIEN  SARDOCr.  413 

M.  Sardou  parley  through  its  bars  with  one  of  the  guardians. 
Then  a  superior  officer,  accompanied  by  a  civilian,  came  out ; 
but  by  this  time,  the  crowd,  which  had  kept  back,  was  be- 
ginning to  move  also,  I  among  them.  All  of  a  sudden,  the 
general,  who  turned  out  to  be  General  Mellinet,  gets  on  a 
chair,  while  his  companion,  who  turns  out  to  be  M.  de  Les- 
seps,  stands  by  him.  The  Imperial  Guard  disappears,  seeing 
which,  the  crowd,  no  longer  apprehensive  of  being  shot  down, 
advances  rapidly  to  within  a  few  steps  of  the  gate.  Then 
there  is  a  cheer,  for  the  Imperial  flag  is  hauled  down  from 
the  roof.  '  Gentlemen,'  says  the  general,  '  the  Tuileries  are 
empty,  the  Empress  is  gone.  But  it  is  my  duty  to  guard  the 
palace,  and  I  count  upon  you  to  help  me.'  He  says  a  great 
deal  more,  but  the  crowd  are  pressing  forward  all  the  same. 
I  feel  that  the  crucial  moment  has  arrived,  and  that  the 
palace  will  be  invaded,  in  spite  of  the  general's  speechifying, 
when  lo,  the  Gardes  Mobiles  issue  from  the  front  door,  and 
range  themselves  in  two  rows.  The  gates  are  opened,  the 
crowd  rushes  in,  but  the  Mobiles  are  there  to  prevent  them 
making  any  excursions,  either  upstairs  or  into  the  apart- 
ments, and  in  a  few  minutes  we  find  ourselves  in  the  Place 
du  Carrousel.  The  palace  has  been  virtually  saved  by  M. 
Sardou." 

Half  an  hour  later,  we  receive  the  news  that  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  National  Defence  has  been  proclaimed  at  the 
Hotel  de  Ville,  and  that  night  Paris  is  illuminated  as  after  a 
victory. 


414  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  eiege — The  Parisians  convinced  that  the  Germans  will  not  invest  Paris- 
Paris  becomes  a  vast  drill-groimd,  nevertheless — The  Parisians  leave  off 
singinfT,  but  listen  to  itinerant  performers,  though  the  latter  no  longer  sing 
the  "  Marseillaise  "—The  theatres  closed — The  Com^die-Frangaise  and  th 
Opera — Influx  of  the  Gardes  Mobiles — The  Parisian  no  longer  chaffs  the 
provincial,  but  does  the  honours  of  the  city  to  him — The  stolid,  gaunt 
Breton  and  the  astute  and  cynical  Normand — The  gardens  of  the  Tuileries 
an  artillery  park — The  mitrailleuse  still  commands  confidence — The  papers 
try  to  be  comic — Food  may  fail,  drink  will  not — My  visit  to  the  wine  d6p6t 
at  Bercy — An  official's  information — Cattle  in  the  public  squares  and  on 
the  outer  Boulevards — Fear  with  regard  to  them — Every  man  carries  a  rifle 
— The  woods  in  the  suburbs  are  set  on  Are — The  statue  of  Strasburg  on  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde— M.  Prudhomme  to  his  sons — The  men  who  do  not 
spout — The  French  shopkeeper  and  bourgeois — A  story  of  his  greed — He 
reveals  the  whereabouts  of  the  cable  laid  on  the  bed  of  the  Seine — Obscure 
heroes — Would-be  Kavaillacs  and  Balthazar  Gerards — Inventors  of  schemes 
for  the  instant  annihilation  of  all  the  Germans — A  musical  mitrailleuse— 
An  exhibition  and  lecture  at  the  Alcazar — The  last  train — Trains  converted 
into  dwelling  for  the  suburban  poor — Interior  of  a  railway  station — The 
spy  mania—Where  the  Parisians  ouglit  to  have  looked  for  spies — I  am 
arrested  as  a  spy — A  chat  with  the  officer  in  charge — A  terrible-looking 
knife. 

In  spite  of  the  frequent  reports  from  the  provinces  that 
the  Germans  were  marching  on  Paris,  there  were  thousands 
of  people  in  the  capital  who  seriously  maintained  that  they, 
the  Germans,  would  not  dare  to  invest,  let  alone,  shell  it. 
But  it  must  not  be  inferred,  as  many  English  writers  have 
done,  that  this  confidence  was  due  to  a  mistaken  view  of  the 
Germans'  pluck,  or  their  reluctance  to  beard  the  "  lion  "  in 
his  den.  N"ot  at  all.  The  Parisians  simply  credited  their 
foes  with  the  superstitious  love  and  reverence  for  "  the  cen- 
tre of  light  and  civilization "  which  they  themselves  felt. 
They  did  not  take  their  cue  from  Victor  Hugo's  "high- 
falutin' "  remonstrance  to  King  William ;  on  the  contrary,  it 
was  the  poet  who  translated  their  sentiments.  It  was  not  a 
case  of  "  one  fool  making  many ; "  but  of  many  mute  inglori- 
ous visionaries  inspiring  a  still  greater  one,  who  had  the  gift 
of  eloquence,  which  eloquence,  in  this  instance,  bordered 
very  closely  on  sublimated  drivel. 


THE  SIEGE.  415 

Nevertheless,  the  whole  of  Paris  became  suddenly  trans- 
formed into  one  vast  drill-ground,  and  the  clang  of  arms  re- 
sounded through  the  city  day  and  night.  For  the  time  being, 
the  crowds  left  off  singing,  albeit  that  they  listened  now  and 
then  devoutly  and  reverently  to  itinerant  performers,  male 
and  female,  who  had  paraphrased  the  patriotic  airs  of  certain 
operas  for  the  occasion.  The  "  Pars  beau  mousquetaire," 
etc.,  of  Halevy,  became  "  Pars  beau  volontaire ; "  the  "  Guerre 
aux  tyrans,"  of  the  same  composer, "  Guerre  aux  all'mands,"  * 
and  so  forth. 

All  the  theatres  had  closed  their  doors  by  this  time,  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise  being  last,  I  believe  ;  though,  almost  im- 
mediately afterward,  it  threw  open  its  portals  once  more  for 
at  least  two  performances  a  week,  and  often  a  third  time,  in 
aid  of  the  victims  of  the  siege.  Meanwhile,  several  rooms 
were  being  got  ready  for  the  reception  of  the  wounded ;  the 
new  opera-house,  still  unfinished,  was  made  into  a  commissa- 
riat and  partly  into  a  barracks,  for  the  provincial  Gardes 
Mobiles  were  flocking  by  thousands  to  the  capital,  and  the 
camps  could  not  hold  them  all.  For  once  in  a  way  the  Pari- 
sian forgot  to  chaff  the  provincial  who  came  to  pay  him  a 
visit ;  and  considering  that,  even  under  such  circumstances, 
all  drill  and  no  play  would  make  Jacques  a  dull  boy,  he  not 
only  received  him  very  cordially,  but  showed  him  some  of 
the  lions  of  the  capital,  at  which  the  long-haired  gaunt  and 
stolid  Breton  stared  without  moving  a  muscle,  only  mutter- 
ing an  unintelligible  gibberish,  which  might  be  an  invocation 
to  his  ancient  pagan  gods,  or  a  tribute  of  admiration ;  while 
the  more  astute  and  cynical,  though  scarcely  more  impres- 
sionable Normand,  ten  thousand  of  which  had  come  from 
the  banks  of  the  Marne,  showed  the  thought  underlying  all 
his  daily  actions,  in  one  sentence  :  "  C'est  ben  beau,  mais  9a 
a  cotite  beaucoup  d'argent ;  fallait  mieux  le  garder  en  poche." 
Even  at  this  supreme  moment,  he  remembered,  with  a  kind 
of  bitterness,  that  he  had  been  made  to  pay  for  part  of  all 
this  glorious  architecture. 

The  Cirques  Napoleon  and  de  I'Imperatrice — the  Eepub- 
lic  had  not  had  time  to  change  their  names — had  become  a 
kind  of  left-luggage  office  for  these  human  cargoes,  taken 
thither  at  their  arrival,  which  happened  generally  during  the 

*  The  first  from  "  Les  Mousquetaires  de  la  Eeine ; "  the  second  from  "  Charles 
VI."— Editob. 


416  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

night.  In  the  morning  they  were  transferred  to  their  per- 
manent encampments,  and  their  military  education  was  pro- 
ceeded with  at  once.  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  competent  to 
judge  of  the  merits  of  the  method  adopted,  but  I  was  by  no 
means  powerfully  impressed  with  the  knowledge  displayed 
by  the  instructors. 

The  gardens  of  the  Tuileries  had  been  closed  to  the  pub- 
lic, who  had  to  be  satisfied  with  admiring  the  ordnance  and 
long  rows  of  horses  parked  there  from  a  distance.  Did  the 
latter  lend  enchantment  to  the  view  ?  Apparently,  for  they 
were  never  tired  of  gazing  with  ecstasy  on  the  mitrailleuses. 
The  gunners  in  charge  treated  the  foremost  of  the  gazers 
now  and  then  to  a  lecture  on  artillery  practice,  through  the 
railings  of  the  gates.  In  whatsoever  else  they  had  lost  faith, 
those  murderous  engines  of  war  evidently  still  commanded 
their  confidence. 

The  frightful  din  that  marked  the  first  weeks  of  the  war 
had  ceased,  but  Paris  did  by  no  means  look  crestfallen.  The 
gas  burned  brightly  still,  the  cafes  were  full  of  people,  the 
restaurants  had  all  their  tables  occupied ;  for  we  were  not  "  in- 
vested "  yet,  and  the  idea  of  scarcity,  let  alone  of  famine, 
though  a  much-discussed  contingency,  was  not  a  staring, 
stubborn  fact.  "  It  will  never  become  one,"  said  and  thought 
many,  "  and  all  that  talk  about  doling  out  rations  already  is 
so  much  nonsense."  The  papers  waxed  positively  comic  on 
the  subject.  They  also  waxed  comic  over  the  telegrams  of 
the  King  of  Prussia  to  his  Consort ;  but  they  left  off  harping 
on  that  string,  for  very  shame'  sake. 

One  thing  was  certain  from  the  beginning  of  the  siege — 
whatever  else  might  fail,  there  was  enough  wine  and  to  spare 
to  cheer  the  hearts  of  men  who  professed  to  do  and  dare  more 
than  men.  Though  the  best  part  of  my  life  had  been  spent 
in  Paris,  I  had,  curiously  enough,  never  seen  the  wine  and 
spirit  depdts  at  Bercy ;  in  fact,  I  Avas  profoundly  ignorant  of 
that,  as  well  as  of  other  matters  connected  with  the  food- 
supply  of  Paris.  So  I  wrote  to  a  member  of  the  firm  which 
had  supplied  me  for  many  years  with  wine  and  spirits,  and 
he  took  me  thither. 

I  should  think  that  the  "  entrepot-general,"  as  it  is  called, 
occupied,  at  that  time,  not  less  than  sixty  acres  of  ground, 
which  meant  more  than  treble  that  area  as  far  as  storage 
was  concerned;  for  there  was  not  only  the  cellarage,  but 
the  buildings  above  ground,  rising,  in  many  instances,  to 


THE  WINE  DEPOT  AT  BERCY.        ^^ij- 

three  and  four  stories.  The  entrep6t  consisted,  and  consists 
still,  I  believe,  of  three  distinct  parts :  one  for  wines ;  an- 
other for  what  the  French  call  "  alcohols,"  and  we  "  spirits ;  " 
a  third,  much  smaller,  for  potable,  or,  rather,  edible  oils. 
The  latter  wing  contains  the  cellarage  of  the  general  admin- 
istration of  the  hospitals.  The  spirit-cellars  were  absolutely 
empty  at  the  time  of  my  visit ;  their  contents  had  been  re- 
moved to  a  bomb  and  shell  proof  cellarage  hard  by. 

Though  I  had  come  to  see,  I  felt  very  little  wiser  after 
leaving  the  cellars  than  before ;  for,  truth  to  tell,  I  was  ab- 
solutely bewildered.  I  had  no  more  idea  of  the  quantity  of 
wine  stored  there  than  a  child.    My  guide  laughed. 

"  We'll  soon  make  the  matter  clear  to  you,"  he  said,  shak- 
ing hands  with  a  gentleman  who  turned  out  to  be  one  of  the 
principal  employes.  "  This  gentleman  will  tell  you  almost  to 
a  hectolitre  the  quantity  of  ordinary  wine  in  store.  You 
know  pretty  well  the  number  of  inhabitants  of  the  capital, 
and  though  it  has  considerably  increased  during  the  last  few 
days,  and  is  not  unlikely  to  decrease  during  the  siege,  if  siege 
there  be,  the  influx  does  not  amount  to  a  hundred  thousand. 
Now,  monsieur,  will  you  tell  this  gentleman  what  you  have 
in  stock?" 

"  We  have  got  at  the  present  moment  1,600,000  hecto- 
litres of  ordinary  wine  in  our  cellars.  Ten  days  ago  we  had 
nearly  one  hundred  thousand  more,  but  the  wine-shops  and 
others  have  laid  in  large  provisions  since  then.  The  more 
expensive  wines  I  need  not  mention,  because  the  quantity  is 
very  considerably  less,  and,  moreover,  they  are  not  likely  to 
be  wanted  ;  though,  if  they  were  wanted,  they  would  keep  us 
going  for  many,  many  weeks.  At  a  rough  guess,  the  number 
of  '  souls '  within  the  fortifications  is  about  1,700,000,  with 
the  recent  increase  1,800,000 ;  consequently,  with  what  the 
'  liquoristes '  have  recently  bought,  one  hundred  litres  for 
every  man,  woman,  and  child.  I  do  not  reckon  the  contents 
of  private  cellars,  nor  those  of  the  wine-merchants,  apart 
from  their  recent  purchases.  Kor  is  ordinary  wine  much 
dearer  than  it  was  in  years  of  great  plenty ;  it  is,  in  fact,  less 
by  twenty-five  francs  or  thirty  francs  than  in  the  middle  of 
the  fifties.  I  am  comparing  prices  for  quarter  pipes,  contain- 
ing from  two  hundred  and  ten  to  two  hundred  and  thirty 
litres.  There  is  no  fear  of  regrating  here,  nor  the  likelihood 
of  our  having  to  drink  water  for  some  time." 

On  our  homeward  journey,  we  noticed  bullocks,  pigs,  and 


418  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

sheep  littered  down  in  some  of  the  public  squares  and  on  the 
outer  boulevards.  The  st-jinted  grass  in  the  former  had  al- 
ready entirely  disappeared,  and  it  was  evident  that,  with  the 
utmost  care,  the  cattle  would  deteriorate  under  the  existing 
circumstances ;  for  fodder  would  probably  be  the  first  com- 
modity to  fail ;  as  it  was,  it  had  already  risen  to  more  than 
twice  its  former  price.  Moreover,  the  competent  judges 
feared  that,  in  the  event  of  a  rainy  autumn,  the  cattle  penned 
in  such  small  spaces  would  be  more  subject  to  epidemic  dis- 
eases, which  would  absolutely  render  them  unfit  for  human 
food.  In  view  of  such  a  contingency,  the  learned  members 
of  the  Academie  des  Sciences  were  beginning  to  put  their 
heads  together,  but  the  results  of  their  deliberations  were  not 
known  as  yet. 

We  returned  on  foot  as  we  had  come ;  private  carriages 
had  entirely  disappeared,  and  though  the  omnibuses  and 
cabs  were  plying  as  usual,  their  progress  was  seriously  im- 
peded by  long  lines  of  vans,  heavily  laden  with  neat  deal 
boxes,  evidently  containing  tinned  provisions.  Very  few  fe- 
male passengers  in  the  public  conveyances,  and  scarcely  a  man 
without  a  rifle.  They  were  the  future  defenders  of  the  capi- 
tal, who  had  been  to  Vincennes,  where  the  distribution  of 
arms  was  going  on  from  early  morn  till  late  at  night.  In 
fact,  the  sight  of  a  working-man  not  provided  with  a  rifle,  a 
mattock,  a  spade,  or  a  pickaxe  was  becoming  a  rarity,  for  a 
great  many  had  been  engaged  to  aid  the  engineers  in  digging 
trenches,  spiking  the  ground,  etc. 

I  did  not,  and  do  not,  feel  competent  to  judge  of  the 
utility  of  all  these  means  of  defense ;  one  of  them,  however, 
seemed  to  be  conceived  in  the  wrong  spirit :  I  allude  to  the 
firing  of  the  woods  around  Paris.  With  the  results  of  For- 
bach  and  Woerth  to  guide  them,  the  generals  entrusted  with 
the  defence  of  Paris  could  not  leave  tlie  woods  to  stand  ;  but 
was  there  any  necessity  to  destroy  them  in  the  way  they  did  ? 
In  spite  of  the  activity  displayed,  there  were  still  thousands 
of  idle  hands  anxious  to  be  employed.  Why  were  not  the 
trees  cut  down  and  transported  to  Paris,  for  fuel  for  the  com- 
ing winter  ?  At  that  moment  there  were  lots  of  horses  avail- 
able, and  such  a  measure  would  have  given  us  the  double  ad- 
vantage of  saving  coals  for  the  manufacture  of  gas,  and  of 
protecting  from  the  rigours  of  the  coming  winter  hundreds 
whose  sufferings  would  have  been  mitigated  by  light  and  heat. 
Personally,  I  did  not  suffer  much.    From  what  I  have  seen 


FRENCHMEN'S  GREED.  419 

during  the  siege,  I  have  come  to  the  condusion  that  short- 
comings in  the  way  of  food  are  far  less  hard  to  bear,  nay,  are 
almost  cheerfully  borne,  in  a  warm  room  and  with  a  lamp 
brightly  burning.  I  leave  out  of  the  question  the  quantities 
of  mineral  oil  wasted  in  the  attempt  to  set  fire  to  the  woods, 
because  in  many  instances  the  attempt  failed  utterly. 

Meanwhile,  patriotism  was  kept  at  the  boiling  point,  by 
glowing  reports  of  the  heroic  defence  of  General  Uhrich  at 
Strasburg.  The  statue,  representing  the  capital  of  Alsace  on 
tho  Place  de  la  Concorde,  became  the  goal  of  a  reverent  pil- 
grimage on  the  part  of  the  Parisians,  though  the  effect  of  it 
was  spoiled  too  frequently  by  M.  Prudhomme  holding  forth 
sententiousiy,  to  his  sons  apparently,  to  the  crowd  in  reality. 
These  discourses  reminded  one  too  much  of  Heine's  sneer, 
that  "  all  Frenchmen  are  actors,  and  the  worse  are  generally 
on  the  stage."  In  this  instance,  however,  the  amateurs  ran 
the  professional  very  hard.  The  crowds  were  not  hjrpercriti- 
cal,  though,  and  they  applauded  the  speaker,  who  departed, 
accompanied  by  his  offspring,  with  the  proud  consciousness 
that  he  was  a  born  orator,  and  that  he  had  done  his  duty  to 
his  country  by  spouting  platitudes.  It  is  not  difficult  to  give 
the  general  sequel  to  that  amateur  performance.  Next  morn- 
ing there  is  a  line  in  some  obscure  paper,  and  M.  Prudhomme, 
beside  himself  with  joy,  leaves  his  card  on  the  journalist  who 
wrote  it ;  the  journalist  leaves  his  in  return,  and  for  the  next 
six  months  the  latter  has  his  knife  and  fork  laid  at  M.  Prud- 
homme's  table.  The  acquaintance  generally  terminates  on 
M.  Prudhomme's  discovery  that  Madame  Prudhomme  carried 
her  friendship  too  far  by  looking  after  the  domestic  concerns 
of  the  scribe,  at  the  scribe's  bachelor  quarters. 

The  men  who  did  not  spout  were  the  Duruys,  the  Meis- 
soniers,  and  a  hundred  others  I  could  mention.  The  eminent 
historian  and  grand-master  of  the  University,  though  sixty, 
donned,  the  simple  uniform  of  a  National  Guard,  and  per- 
formed his  garrison  duties  like  the  humblest  artisan,  only  dis- 
tinguished from  the  latter  by  his  star  of  grand-officer  of  the  Le- 
gion d'Honneur  ;  the  great  painter  did  the  same.  The  French 
shopkeeping  bourgeois  is,  as  a  rule,  a  silly,  pompous  creature ; 
very  frequently,  he  is  mean  and  contemptible  besides. 

Here  is  a  story  for  the  truth  of  which  I  can  vouch,  and 
which  shows  him  in  his  true  light.  In  the  skirmish  in  which 
Lieutenant  Winslow  was  killed,  some  damage  had  been  done 
to  the  inn  at  Schirlenhoff,  where  the  Baden  officers  were  at 


420  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

breakfast  when  they  were  surprised  by  General  de  Bernis  and 
his  men.  The  general  had  his  foot  already  in  the  stirrup, 
and  was  about  to  remove  his  prisoners,  when  Boniface  made 
his  appearance,  coolly  asking  to  whom  he  was  to  present  the 
bill  for  the  breakage.  The  general  burst  out  laughing : 
"  The  losing  party  pays  the  damage  as  a  rule,"  he  said,  "  but 
France  is  sufficiently  rich  to  reverse  the  rule.  Here  is  double 
the  amount  of  your  bill." 

A  second  story,  equally  authentic.  A  cable  had  been 
secretly  laid  on  the  bed  of  the  Seine  between  Paris  and  Havre, 
shortly  before  the  siege.  Two  small  shopkeepers  of  St.  Ger- 
main revealed  the  fact  for  a  consideration  to  the  Germans, 
who  had  but  very  vague  suspicions  of  it,  and  who  certainly 
did  not  know  the  land-bearings ;  one  of  the  scoundrels  was 
caught  after  the  siege,  the  other  escaped.  The  one  who  was 
tried  pleaded  poverty,  and  received  a  ridiculously  small  sen- 
tence. It  transpired  afterwards  that  he  was  exceedingly  well 
paid  for  his  treachery,  and  that  he  cheated  his  fellow-informer 
out  of  his  share. 

The  contrast  is  more  pleasant  to  dwell  upon.  There  were 
hundreds  of  obscure  heroes,  by  which  I  do  not  mean  those 
prepared  to  shed  their  blood  on  the  battle-field,  but  men  with 
a  sublime  indifference  to  life,  courting  the  fate  of  a  Ravaillac 
and  a  Balthazar  Gerard.  History  would  have  called  them 
regicides,  and  perhaps  ranked  them  with  paid  assassins  had 
they  accomplished  their  purpose,  would  have  held  them  up 
to  the  scorn  of  posterity  as  bloodthirsty  fanatics, — and  his- 
tory, for  once  in  a  way,  would  have  been  wrong.  In  their 
reprehensible  folly,  they  were  more  estimable  than  the  Jules 
Favres,  the  Gambettas  who  played  at  being  the  saviours  of  the 
country,  and  who  were  only  the  saviours  of  their  needy,  fel- 
low political  adventurers. 

Apart  from  the  former,  there  were  the  inventors  of  im- 
possible schemes  for  the  instantaneous  annihilation  of  the 
three  hundred  thousand  Germans  around  Paris, — inventors 
who  supply  the  comic  note  in  the  otherwise  terrible  drama, — 
inventors,  who  day  by  day  besiege  the  Ministry  for  War,  and 
to  whom,  after  all,  the  minister's  collaborateurs  are  compelled 
to  listen  "  on  the  chance  of  there  being  something  in  their 
schemes." 

"  I  am  asking  myself,  every  now  and  then,  whether  I  am 
a  staff-officer  or  one  of  the  doctors  at  Charenton,"  said  Prince 
Bibesca,  one  evening. 


INVENTORS  AND  SAVIOURS.  42I 

"  Since  yesterday  morning,"  he  went  on,  "  I  have  been  in- 
terviewed by  a  dozen  inventors,  every  one  of  whom  wanted 
to  see  General  Trochu  or  General  Schmitz,  and  would  scarcely 
be  persuaded  that  I  would  do  as  well.  The  first  one  simply 
took  the  breath  out  of  me.  I  had  no  energy  left  to  resist  the 
others,  or  to  bow  them  out  politely ;  if  they  had  chosen  to 
keep  on  talking  for  four  and  twenty  hours,  I  should  have 
been  compelled  to  listen.  He  was  a  little  man,  about  the 
height  of  M.  Thiers.  His  opening  speech  was  in  proportion 
to  his  height ;  it  consisted  of  one  line.  '  Monsieur,  I  annihi- 
late the  Germans  with  one  blow,'  he  said.  I  was  thrown  off 
my  guard  in  spite  of  myself,  for  etiquette  demands  that  I 
should  keep  serious  in  spite  of  myself ;  and  I  replied,  '  Let 
me  fill  my  pipe  before  you  do  it.' 

"  Meanwhile,  my  visitor  spread  out  a  large  roll  of  paper 
on  the  table.  '  I  am  not  an  inventor,'  he  said ;  '  I  merely 
adapt  the  lessons  of  ancient  history  to  the  present  circum- 
stances. I  merely  modify  the  trick  of  the  horse  of  Troy. 
Here  is  Paris  with  its  ninety-six  bastions,  its  forts,  etc.  I 
draw  three  lines :  along  the  first  I  send  twenty-five  thousand 
men  pretending  to  attack  the  northern  positions  of  the 
enemy ;  along  the  second  line  I  send  a  similar  number,  ap- 
parently bent  on  a  similar  attempt  to  the  south;  my  fifty 
thousand  troops  are  perfectly  visible  to  the  Germans,  for  they 
commence  their  march  an  hour  or  so  before  dusk.  Mean- 
while darkness  sets  in,  and  that  is  the  moment  I  choose  to 
despatch  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  troops,  screened  and 
entirely  concealed  by  a  movable  wall  of  sheet  iron,  blackened 
by  smoke.  My  inventive  powers  have  gone  no  further  than 
this.  My  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men  behind  their  wall 
penetrate  unhindered  as  far  as  the  Prussian  lines,  where  a 
hundred  thousand  fall  on  their  backs,  taking  aim  over  the 
wall,  while  fifty  thousand  keep  moving  it  forward  slowly. 
Twelve  shots  for  every  man  make  twelve  hundred  thousand 
shots — more  than  sufficient  to  cause  a  panic  among  the  Ger- 
mans, who  do  not  know  whence  the  firing  proceeds,  because 
my  wall  is  as  dark  as  night  itself.  Supposing,  however,  that 
those  who  have  been  left  in  the  camp  defend  themselves,  their 
projectiles  will  glance  off  against  the  sheet  iron  of  the  wall, 
which,  if  necessary,  can  be  thrown  down  finally  by  our  own 
men,  who  will  finish  their  business  with  the  bayonet  and  the 
sword.' 

"  My  second  visitor  had  something  not  less  formidable  to 


422  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

propose ;  namely,  a  sledge-hammer,  fifteen  miles  in  circum- 
ference, and  weighing  ten  millions  of  tons.  It  was  to  be 
lifted  up  to  a  certain  altitude  by  means  of  balloons.  A 
favourable  wind  had  to  be  waited  for,  which  would  send  the 
balloons  in  the  direction  of  Versailles,  where  the  ropes  con- 
fining the  hammer  would  be  cut.  In  its  fall  it  would  crush 
and  bury  the  head-quarters  and  the  bulk  of  the  German  army. 

"  The  third  showed  me  the  plan  of  a  musical  mitrailleuse, 
which  would  deal  death  and  destruction  while  playing  Wag- 
ner, Schubert,  and  Mendelssohn,  the  former  by  preference. 
'  The  Germans,'  he  remarked,  '  are  too  fond  of  music  to  be 
able  to  resist  the  temptation  of  listening.  They  are  sure  to 
draw  near  in  thousands  when  my  mitrailleuses  are  set  playing. 
We  have  got  them  at  our  mercy.'  I  asked  him  to  send  me  a 
small  one  as  a  sample :  he  promised  to  do  so." 

Another  evening  I  was  induced  to  go  to  the  Alcazar.  I 
had  been  there  once  before,  to  hear  Theresa.  This  time  it 
was  to  see  an  "  Exhibition  of  Engines  of  War,"  and  to  listen 
to  a  practical  lecture  thereon.  The  audience  was  as  jolly  as 
if  the  Germans  were  a  thousand  miles  away — jollier,  per- 
haps, than  when  they  listened  to  "  Kien  n'est  sacre  pour  un 
sapeur ; "  because  they  were  virtually  taking  part  in  the  per- 
formance. The  lecturer  began  by  an  exhibition  of  bullet- 
proof pads,  by  means  of  which  the  soldier  might  fearlessly 
advance  towards  the  enemy ;  "  because  they  render  that  part 
of  the  body  on  which  they  are  worn  invulnerable."  A  wag 
among  the  spectators  made  a  remark  about  "  retreating  sol- 
diers," which  I  cannot  transcribe;  but  the  exhibitor,  an 
Italian  or  Spanish  major,  to  judge  by  his  accent,  was  in  no 
way  disconcerted.  He  placed  his  pad  against  an  upright 
board  in  the  shape  of  a  target  and  began  firing  at  it  with  a 
revolver  at  a  distance  of  four  or  five  paces.  The  material, 
though  singed,  was  not  pierced,  but  the  spectators  seemed  by 
no  means  convinced.  "  You  wear  the  pad,  and  let  me  have 
a  shot  at  you,"  exclaimed  one ;  at  which  offer  the  major 
made  a  long  face.  "  Have  you  ever  tried  the  experiment  on 
a  living  animal?"  asks  another.  "Perfectly,"  replied  the 
major ;  "  I  tried  it  on  my  clerk,"  which  admission  was  hailed 
with  shouts  of  laughter.  There  were  cries  for  the  clerk,  who 
did  not  appear.  A  corporal  of  the  National  Guards  proposed 
to  try  an  experiment  on  the  major  and  the  pad  with  the 
bayonet  fastened  to  a  chassepot ;  thereupon  major  and  pad 
suddenly  disappeared  behind  the  wings. 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  ALCAZAR.  428 

The  next  inventor  exhibits  a  fire-extinguisher ;  the  audi- 
ence require  more  than  a  verbal  explanation ;  some  of  them 
propose  to  set  the  Alcazar  on  fire.  A  small  panic,  checked 
in  time ;  and  the  various  demonstrations  are  proceeded  with 
amidst  shouts,  and  laughter,  and  jokes.  They  yield  no  prac- 
tical results,  but  they  kill  time.  They  are  voted  the  next 
best  thing  to  the  theatre. 

By  this  time  we  were  shut  off  from  the  outer  world.  On 
the  17th  of  September,  at  night,  the  last  train  of  the  Orleans 
Railway  Company  had  left  Paris.  The  others  had  ceased 
working  a  day  or  so  before,  and  placed  their  rolling  stock  in 
safety.  Xot  the  whole  of  it,  though.  A  great  many  of  the 
third-class  carriages  have  had  tlieir  seats  taken  out,  the  lug- 
gage and  goods  vans  have  been  washed,  the  cattle  trucks 
boarded  in,  and  all  these  transformed  into  temporary  dwell- 
ings for  the  suburban  poor  who  have  been  obliged  to  seek 
shelter  within  the  walls  of  the  capital.  The  interiors  of  the 
principal  railway  stations  present  scenes  that  would  rejoice 
the  hearts  of  genre-painters  on  a  large  scale.  The  washing 
and  cooking  of  all  these  squatters  is  done  on  the  various 
platforms,  the  carriages  have  become  parlor  and  bedroom  in 
one,  and  there  has  even  been  some  ingenuity  displayed  in 
their  decoration.  The  womankind  rarely  stir  from  their  im- 
provised homes  ;  the  men  are  on  the  fortifications  or  roaming 
the  streets  of  Paris.  Part  of  the  household  gods  has  been 
stowed  inside  the  trucks,  the  rest  is  piled  up  in  front.  The 
domestic  pets,  such  as  cats  and  dogs,  have,  as  yet,  not  been 
killed  for  food,  and  the  former  have  a  particularly  good  time 
of  it,  for  mice  and  rats  abound,  especially  in  the  goods- 
sheds.  Here  and  there  a  goat  gravely  stalking  along,  hap- 
pily unconscious  of  its  impending  doom ;  and  chanticleer 
surrounded  by  a  small  harem  trying  to  make  the  best  of 
things. 

Of  course,  the  sudden  and  enormous  influx  of  human 
beings  could  not  be  housed  altogether  in  that  way,  but  care 
has  been  taken  that  none  of  them  shall  be  shelterless.  All 
the  tenantless  apartments,  from  the  most  palatial  in  the 
Faubourg  St.  Honore  and  Champs-Elysees  to  the  humblest 
in  the  popular  quarters,  have  been  utilized,  and  the  pot-au- 
feu  simmers  in  marble  fireplaces,  while  Gallic  Hodge  sees  his 
face  reflected  in  gigantic  mirrors  the  like  of  which  he  never 
saw  before.  The  dwellings  that  have  been  merely  vacated 
by  their  tenants  who  have  flitted  to  Homburg  and  Baden- 


424  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Baden,  to  Nice  and  elsewhere,  are  as  yet  not  called  into 
requisition  by  the  authorities. 

From  the  moment  we  were  cut  off  from  the  outer  world, 
the  spy  mania,  which  had  been  raging  fiercely  enough  before, 
became  positively  contagious.  There  is  not  the  slightest 
doubt  that  there  were  spies  in  Paris,  but  I  feel  perfectly  cer- 
tain that  they  were  not  prowling  about  the  streets,  and  that 
to  have  caught  them  one  would  have  had  to  look  among  the 
personnel  of  the  ministries.  For  a  foreigner,  unless  he  spoke 
French  without  the  slightest  accent,  to  have  accepted  such 
a  mission,  would  have  been  akin  to  madness ;  and  there  were 
and  are  still  few  foreigners,  however  well  they  may  know 
French,  who  do  not  betray  their  origin  now  and  then  by  im- 
perfect pronunciation.  Besides,  there  was  nothing  to  spy  in. 
the  streets ;  nevertheless,  the  spy  mania,  as  I  have  already 
said,  had  reached  an  acute  crisis.  The  majority  of  the  Na- 
tional Guard  seemed  to  have  no  other  occupation  than  to 
look  for  spies.  A  poor  Spanish  priest  was  arrested  because 
he  had  been  three  times  in  the  same  afternoon  to  the  cobbler 
for  the  only  serviceable  pair  of  shoes  he  possessed.  Woe  to 
the  man  or  woman  who  was  ill-advised  enough  to  take  out 
his  pocket-book  in  the  streets.  If  you  happened  to  be  of 
studious  habits,  or  merely  inclined  to  sit  up  late,  the  lights 
peeping  through  the  carelessly  drawn  curtains  exposed  you 
to  a  sudden  visit  from  half  a  dozen  ill-mannered,  swaggering 
National  Guards,  your  concierge  was  called  out  of  his  bed, 
while  you  were  taken  to  the  nearest  commissary  of  police  to 
explain ;  or,  what  was  worse  still,  to  the  nearest  military  post, 
where  the  lieutenant  in  command  made  it  a  point  to  be  alto- 
gether soldier-like— according  to  his  ideas,  i.e.  brutal,  rude, 
disgustingly  familiar.  ^  You  might  get  an  apology  from  the 
police-official  for  having  been  disturbed  and  dragged  through 
the  streets  for  no  earthly  reason;  the  quasi-military  man 
would  have  considered  it  beneath  his  dignity  to  offer  one. 

Of  course,  every  now  and  then,  one  happened  to  meet 
with  a  gentleman  who  was  only  too  anxious  to  atone  for  the 
imbecile  "goings-on"  of  his  men,  and  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  do  so  one  night.  It  was  on  the  20th  of  Septem- 
ber, when  the  feelings  of  the  Parisians  had  already  been  em- 
bittered by  their  first  and  not  very  creditable  defeat  under 
their  own  walls.  I  do  not  suppose  there  were  more  than  a 
score  of  Englishmen  in  Paris,  besides  the  Irishmen  engaged 
in  salting  beef  at  the  slaughter-house  of  La  Villette,  when, 


THE  spy  MANIA. 


425 


but  for  that  gentleman,  I  should  have  been  in  a  sore  strait. 
Among  the  English,  there  was  a  groom  who,  at  the  time  of 
the  general  exodus,  was  so  dangerously  ill  that  the  doctor 
absolutely  forbade  his  removal,  even  to  a  hospital.  The  case 
had  been  brought  under  my  notice,  and  as  the  poor  fellow 
was  very  respectable  and  had  been  hard-working,  as  he  had 
a  wife  and  a  young  family  besides,  we  not  only  did  all  we 
could  for  him,  but  I  went  to  see  him  personally  two  or  three 
times  to  cheer  him  up  a  bit.  He  was  on  the  mend,  but 
slowly,  very  slowly.  He  lived  in  one  of  the  side  streets  of 
the  Avenue  de  Clichy,  and  had  lived  there  a  good  while,  and 
the  concierge  of  the  house  had  her  mind  perfectly  at  rest 
with  regard  to  his  nationality,  albeit  that  the  fact  of  being 
an  Englishman  was  not  always  a  sufficient  guarantee  against 
the  suspicion  of  being  a  spy  on  the  part  of  the  lower  classes. 
Moreover,  they  would  not  always  take  the  fact  for  granted ; 
they  were  unable  to  distinguish  an  English  from  a  German 
or  any  other  accent,  and,  with  them,  to  be  a  foreigner  was 
necessarily  to  be  a  German,  and  a  German  could  not  be  any- 
thii]g  but  a  spy.  However,  in  this  instance,  I  felt  no  anxiety 
for  my  protege. 

Unfortunately,  a  few  days  before  the  closing  of  Paris,  the 
concierge  herself  fell  ill,  and  another  one  took  her  place. 
The  successor  was  a  man,  and  not  by  any  means  a  pleasant 
man.  There  was  a  scowl  on  his  face,  as,  in  answer  to  his 
summons,  I  told  him  whither  I  was  going;  and  he  cast  a 
suspicious  look  at  a  box  I  was  carrying  under  my  arm,  which 
happened  to  contain  nothing  more  formidable  than  a  surgical 
appliance.  I  took  no  notice,  however,  and  mounted  the 
stairs. 

My  visit  may  have  lasted  between  twenty  minutes  and 
half  an  hour.  When  I  came  out,  a  considerable  crowd  had 
assembled  on  the  footway  and  in  the  road,  and  a  dozen  Na- 
tional Guards  were  ranged  in  a  semicircle  in  front  of  the 
door. 

The  first  cry  that  greeted  me  was  "  Le  voila,"  and  then  a 
corporal  advanced.  "  Your  name,  citizen,"  he  said,  in  a  hec- 
toring tone,  "  and  what  brings  you  to  this  house  ? "  I  kept 
very  cool,  and  told  him  that  l'  would  neither  give  him  my 
name  nor  an  explanation  of  my  visit,  but  that  if  he  would 
take  me  to  his  lieutenant  or  captain,  I  should  be  pleased  to 
give  both  to  the  latter.  But  he  would  not  be  satisfied. 
"  "Where  is  the  box  you  had  in  your  hand  ?  what  did  it  con- 


426  AN  ENGLISHMAN    IN  PARIS. 

tain?  and  what  hare  you  done  with  it?"  he  insisted.  I 
knew  that  it  would  be  useless  to  try  and  enlighten  him,  so  I 
stuck  to  my  text.  Meanwhile  the  crowd  had  become  very 
excited,  so  I  simply  repeated  my  request  to  be  taken  to  the 
post. 

The  crowd  would  have  willingly  judged  me  there  and 
then;  that  is,  strung  me  up  to  the  nearest  lamp-post.  If 
they  had,  not  a  single  one  among  them  would  have  been 
prosecuted  for  murder,  and  by  the  end  of  the  siege  the  Brit- 
ish Government  would  have  considered  it  too  late  to  move 
in  the  matter;  besides,  a  great  many  of  my  countrymen 
would  have  opined  that  "  it  served  me  right  "  for  remaining 
in  Paris,  when  I  might  have  made  myself  so  comfortable  in 
London  or  elsewhere.  So  I  felt  very  thankful  when  the  cor- 
poral, though  very  ungraciously,  ordered  his  men  to  close 
around  me  and  "  to  march."  I  have,  since  then,  been  twice 
to  the  Avenue  de  Clichy  on  pleasure  bent ;  that  is,  to  break- 
fast at  the  celebrated  establishment  of  "  le  pere  Lathuille," 
and  the  sight  of  the  lamp-posts  there  sent  a  cold  shudder 
down  my  back. 

The  journey  to  the  military  post  did  not  take  long.  It 
had  been  established  in  a  former  ball-room  or  music-hall,  for 
at  the  far  end  of  the  room  there  was  a  stage,  representing,  as 
far  as  I  can  remember,  an  antique  palace.  The  floor  of  it 
was  littered  with  straw,  on  which  a  score  or  so  of  civic  warri- 
ors were  lazily  stretched  out ;  while  others  were  sitting  at  the 
small  wooden  tables,  that  had,  not  long  ago,  borne  the  festive 
"  saladier  de  petit  bleu."  Some  of  the  ladles  with  which  that 
decoction  had  been  stirred  were  still  hanging  from  the  walls  ; 
for  in  those  neighbourhoods  the  love  of  portable  property  on 
the  part  of  the  patrons  is  quite  Wemmickian,  and  the  pro- 
prietors made  and  make  it  a  rule  to  throw  as  little  temptation 
as  possible  in  the  way  of  the  former.  The  place  looked  quite 
sombre,  though  the  gas  was  alight.  There  was  an  intolerable 
smell  of  damp  straw  and  stale  tobacco  smoke. 

Part  of  the  crowd  succeeded  in  making  their  way  inside, 
notwithstanding  the  efforts  of  the  National  Guards.  My  ap- 
pearance caused  a  certain  stir  among  the  occupants  of  the 
room ;  but  in  a  few  moments  the  captain,  summoned  from 
an  apartment  at  the  back,  came  upon  the  scene,  and  my  pre- 
liminary trial  was  proceeded  with  at  once. 

The  indictment  of  the  corporal  who  had  arrested  me  wag 
brief  and  to  the  point.    "  This  man  is  a  foreigner  who  pays 


THE  INTERIOR  OP  A  GUARD-ROOM.  427 

constant  visits  to  another  foreigner,  supposed  to  be  sick. 
This  evening  he  arrived  with  a  box  under  his  arm  which  he 
left  with  his  friend.  The  concierge  has  reason  to  suppose 
that  there  is  something  wrong,  for  he  does  not  believe  in  the 
man's  illness.  He  is  supposed  to  be  poor,  and  still  he  and  his 
family  are  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land.  My  prisoner  refused 
to  give  me  his  name  and  address,  or  an  explanation  of  his 
visit." 

"  What  have  you  to  say,  monsieur  ?  "  asked  the  captain,  a 
man  of  about  thirty-five,  evidently  belonging  to  the  better 
classes.  I  found  out  afterwards  that  his  name  was  Garnier 
or  Garmier,  and  that  he  was  a  cashier  in  one  of  the  large 
commercial  establishments  in  the  Kue  St.  Martin.  He  was 
killed  in  the  last  sortie  of  the  Parisians. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  been  addressed  that  evening  as 
"  monsieur."  I  simply  took  a  card  from  my  pocket-book  and 
gave  it  to  him.  "  If  that  is  not  suflicient,  some  of  your  men 
can  accompany  me  home  and  ascertain  for  themselves  that  I 
have  not  given  a  false  name  or  address,"  I  said. 

He  looked  at  it  for  a  moment.  "  It  is  quite  unnecessary. 
I  know  your  name  very  well,  though  I  have  not  the  honour 
of  knowing  you  personally.  I  have  seen  your  portrait  at  my 
relatives'  establishment" — he  named  a  celebrated  picture- 
dealer  in  the  Kue  de  la  Paix, — "  and  I  ought  to  have  recog- 
nized you  at  once,  for  it  is  a  very  striking  likeness,  but  it  is 
so  dark  here."  Then  he  turned  to  his  men  and  to  the  crowd  ; 
"  I  will  answer  for  this  gentleman.  I  wish  we  had  a  thou- 
sand or  so  of  foreign  spies  like  him  in  Paris.  France  has  no 
better  friend  than  he." 

I  was  almost  as  much  afraid  of  the  captain's  praise  as  I 
had  been  of  the  corporal's  blame,  because  the  crowd  wanted 
to  give  me  an  ovation ;  seeing  which,  M.  Garmier  invited  me 
to  stay  with  him  a  little  while,  until  the  latter  should  have 
dispersed.  It  was  while  sitting  in  his  own  room  that  he  told 
me  the  following  story. 

"  My  principal  duty,  monsieur,  seems  to  consist,  not  in 
killing  Germans,  but  in  preventing  perfectly  honest  French- 
men and  foreigners  from  being  killed  or  maimed.  Not  later 
than  the  night  before  last,  three  men  were  brought  in.  They 
were  all  very  powerful  fellows;  there  was  no  doubt  about 
their  being  Frenchmen.  They  did  not  take  their  arrest  as  a 
matter  of  course  at  all,  but  to  every  question  I  put  they  sim- 
ply sent  me  to  the  devil.     It  was  not  the  behaviour  of  the 


428  -A^N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

presumed  spy,  who,  as  a  rule,  is  very  soft  spoken  and  concili- 
ating until  he  sees  that  the  game  is  up,  when  he  becomes  in- 
sulting. Still,  I  reflected  that  the  violence  of  the  three  men 
might  be  a  clever  bit  of  acting  also,  the  more  that  I  could  see 
for  myself  that  they  were  abominably,  though  not  speechless- 
ly, drunk.  Their  offence  was  that  they  had  been  seen  loiter- 
ing in  a  field  very  close  to  the  fortifications,  with  their  noses 
almost  to  the  ground.  Do  what  I  would,  an  explanation  I 
could  not  get,  and  at  last  the  most  powerful  of  the  trio  made 
a  movement  as  if  to  draw  a  knife.  With  great  difiiculty  a 
dozen  of  my  men  succeeded  in  getting  his  coat  off ;  and  there, 
between  his  waistcoat  and  his  shirt,  was  a  murderously  look- 
ing blade,  a  formidable  weapon  indeed. 

" '  He  is  a  Prussian  spy,  sure  enough ! '  exclaimed  the 
roomful  of  guards. 

"  I  examined  the  knife  carefully,  tried  to  find  the  name  of 
the  maker,  and  all  at  once  put  it  to  my  nose.  Then  I  took 
up  a  candle  and  looked  more  carefully  still  at  the  prisoners. 
*  They  are  simply  drunk,'  I  said, '  and  the  best  thing  you  can 
do  is  to  take  them  home.' 

'"But  the  knife ? '  insisted  the  sergeant. 

" '  The  knife  is  all  right,'  I  answered. 

" '  I  should  think  it  is  all  right,'  said  the  owner,  *  seeing 
that  I  am  cutting  provisions  all  day  with  it  for  those  con- 
founded Parisians.' 

"  But  the  guards  were  not  satisfied  with  the  explanation. 
They  began  to  surround  me.  '  That  was  surely  a  sign  you 
made  to  the  fellow  when  you  lifted  the  blade  to  your  face, 
captain,'  said  the  sergeant. 

" '  Not  at  all,  friend ;  I  was  simply  smelling  it.  And  it 
smelt  abominably  of  onions.'  That  will  give  you  an  idea, 
monsieur,  of  the  life  they  lead  me  also.  Still,  I  would  ask 
you,  as  a  particular  favour,  monsieur,  not  to  mention  your 
mishap  to  any  one.  As  you  are  aware,  I  am  not  to  blame ; 
but  we  are  in  bad  odour  enough  as  it  is  at  the  Ministry  of 
War,  and  we  do  not  wish  to  increase  our  somewhat  justified 
reputation  for  irresponsible  rowdyism  and  lack  of  discipline." 

I  gave  him  my  promise  to  that  effect,  and  have  not  men- 
tioned the  matter  until  this  day. 


LEX  VENTRIS. 


429 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  siege— The  food-supply  of  Paris— How  and  what  the  Parisians  eat  and 
drink— Bread,  meat,  and  wine— Alcoholism— The  waste  among  the  Lon- 
don poor— The  French  take  a  lesson  from  the  alien— The  Irish  at  La  Vil- 
lette— A  whisper  of  the  horses  being  doomed— M.  Gagne — The  various  at- 
tempts to  introduce  horseflesh— The  journals  deliver  their  opinions— The 
supply  of  horseflesh  as  it  stood  in  '70— The  Academic  des  Sciences— Gela- 
tine— Kitchen  gardens  on  the  balcony — M.  Lockrov's  experiment  —  M. 
Pierre  Joigueux  and  the  Englishman— If  cabbages,  w'hy  not  mushrooms  ? 
— There  is  still  a  kitchen  garden  left — Cream  cheese  from  the  moon,  to  be 
fetched  b.y  Gambetta— His  departure  in  a  balloon— Nadar  and  Napoleon 
in. — Carrier-pigeons — An  aerial  telegraph — Otters  to  cross  the  Prussian 
lines— The  theatres— A  performance  at  the  Cirque  National— "Le  Roi 
s'amuse,"  at  the  Theatre  de  Montmartre— A  dejeuner  at  Durand's- Weber 
and  Beethoven — Long  winter  nights  without  fuel  or  gas — The  price  of  pro- 
visions—The Parisian's  good-humour— His  wit— The  greed  of  the  shop- 
keeper-Culinary literature— More's  '■'■  Dtopia"— An  ex-lieutenant  of  the 
Foreign  Legion — He  gives  us  a  breakfast — He  delivers  a  lecture  on  food — 
Joseph,  his  servant — Milk— The  slender  resources  of  the  poor — I  interview 
an  employe  of  the  State  Pawnshop — Statistics^Hidden  provisions — Bread 
— Prices  of  provisions — New  Year's  Day,  and  New  Year's  dinners — The 
bombardment — No  more  bread — The  end  of  the  siege. 

I  AM  not  a  soldier,  nor  in  the  least  like  one ;  hence,  I 
have,  almost  naturally,  neglected  to  note  any  of  the  strategic 
and  military  problems  involved  in  the  campaign  and  the 
siege.  But,  ignorant  as  I  am  in  these  matters,  and  notwith- 
standing the  repeated  failures  of  General  Trochu's  troops  to 
break  through  the  lines  of  investment,  I  feel  certain,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  the  Germans  would  have  never  taken  Paris 
by  storming  it.  Years  before,  Von  Moltke  had  expressed  his 
opinion  to  that  effect  in  his  correspondence,  not  exactly  with 
regard  to  the  French  capital,  but  with  regard  to  any  fortified 
centre  of  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  inhabitants.  Such 
an  agglomeration,  even  if  severely  left  alone,  and  only  shut 
off  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  falls  by  itself.  I  am  giving 
the  spirit  and  not  the  substance  of  his  words. 

Consequently,  there  is  no  need  to  say,  that,  to  the  mere 
social  observer,  the  problems  raised  by  the  food-supply  were 
perhaps  the  most  interesting.     Even  under  normal  condi- 


430  -A-N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

tions,  the  average  Parisian  in  his  method  of  feeding  is  worth 
studying ;  he  is  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  most  abstemious 
creatures  on  the  civilized  globe.  And  yet,  I  do  not  think 
that  he  consumes  less  alcohol  than  the  average  Englishman 
or  German.  The  Frenchman's  alcohol  is  more  diluted ;  that 
is  all.  A  drunken  woman  is  a  very  rare  sight,  either  in  Paris 
or  in  the  provinces ;  nevertheless,  there  is,  probably,  not  one 
in  a  thousand  women  among  the  lower  classes  who  drinks 
less  than  her  half  a  bottle  of  wine  per  day ;  while  ladies  of 
high  degree  generally  partake  of  one  if  not  two  glasses  of 
chartreuse  with  their  coifee,  after  each  of  the  two  principal 
meals.  Un  grog  Americain  is  as  often  ordered  for  the  lady 
as  for  the  gentleman,  during  the  evening  visits  to  the  cafe. 
I  am  speaking  of  gentlewomen  by  birth  and  education,  and 
of  the  spouses  of  the  well-to-do  men,  not  of  the  members  of 
the  demi-monde  and  of  those  below  them. 

So  far,  the  question  of  drink,  which,  after  my  visit  to 
the  wine-depots  at  Bercy,  assumed  an  altogether  different 
aspect  to  my  mind.  I  began  to  wonder  whether  the  plethora 
of  wine  would  not  do  as  much  harm  as  the  expected  scarcity 
of  food.     My  fears  were  not  groundless. 

Frenchmen,  especially  Parisians,  not  only  eat  a  great 
quantity  of  bread,  but  they  are  very  particular  as  to  its  qual- 
ity. I  have  a  note  showing  that,  during  the  years  1868-69, 
the  consumption  per  head  for  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
amounted  to  a  little  more  than  an  English  pound  per  day, 
and  that  very  little  of  this  was  of  "  second  quality,"  though 
the  latter  was  as  good  as  that  sold  at  many  a  London  baker's 
as  first.  I  tasted  it  myself,  because  the  municipality  had 
made  a  great  point  of  introducing  it  to  the  lower  classes  at 
twopence  per  quartern  less  than  the  first  quality.  Neverthe- 
less, the  French  workman  would  have  none  of  it.* 

Even  in  the  humblest  restaurants,  the  bread  supplied  to 
customers  is  of  a  superior  quality ;  the  ordinary  household 
bread  (pain  de  menage)  is  only  to  be  had  by  specially  asking 
for  it ;  the  roll  with  the  caf e-au-lait  in  the  morning  is  an 
institution  except  with  the  very  poor. 

As  for  meat,  I  have  an  idea,  in  spite  of  all  the  doubts 
thrown  upon  the  question  by  English  writers,  that  the  Pa- 


*  Groethe,  in  his  journey  through  France,  noticed  that  the  peasants  who 
drove  his  carriage  invariably  refused  to  eat  the  soldiers'  bread,  which  he  found 
to  his  taste. — Editor. 


ENGLISH  AND  FRENCH   COOKING.  431 

risiaii  workman  in  18T0  consumed  as  much  as  his  London 
fellow.  The  fact  of  the  former  having  two  square  meals  a 
day  instead  of  one,  is  not  suflRcicntly  taken  into  account  by 
the  casual  observer.  There  are  few  English  artisans  whose 
supper,  except  on  Sundays,  consists  of  anything  more  sub- 
stantial than  bread  and  cheese.  The  Frenchman  eats  meat 
at  twelve  a.m.  and  at  six  p.m.  The  nourishment  contained 
in  the  scraps,  the  bones,  etc.,  is  generally  lost  to  the  English- 
man :  not  a  particle  of  it  is  wasted  in  France.  Be  that  as 
it  may,  the  statistics  for  1858  show  a  consumption  of  close 
upon  eight  ounces  (Englisli)  of  fresh  meat  per  day  for  every 
head  of  the  population.  Be  it  remembered  that  these  sta- 
tistics are  absolutely  correct,  because  a  town-due  of  over  a 
halfpenny  per  English  pound  is  paid  on  the  meat  leaving 
the  public  slaughter-houses,  and  killed  meat  is  taxed  simi- 
larly at  the  city  gates.  Private  slaughter-houses  there  are 
virtually  none. 

Allowing  for  all  this,  it  will  be  seen  that  Paris  was  not 
much  better  off  than  other  capitals  would  have  been  if 
threatened  with  a  siege,  except,  perhaps,  for  the  ingenuity  of 
even  the  humblest  French  housewife  in  making  much  out  of 
little  by  means  of  vegetables,  fruit,  and  cunningly  prepared 
sauces,  for  which,  nevertheless,  butter,  milk,  lard,  etc.,  were 
wanted,  which  commodities  were  as  likely  to  fail  as  all  other 
things.  Xor  must  one  forget  to  mention  the  ingenuity  dis- 
played in  the  public  slaughter-houses  themselves,  in  utilizing 
every  possible  scrap  of  the  slaughtered  animals  for  human 
food.  I  had  occasion,  not  very  long  ago  (1883),  to  go  fre- 
quently, and  for  several  weeks  running,  to  one  of  the  poorest 
quarters  in  London.  I  often  made  the  journey  on  foot,  for 
I  am  ashamed  to  say  that,  until  then,  the  East  End  was  far 
more  unknown  to  me  than  many  an  obscure  town  in  France, 
Italy,  Germany,  and  Spain.  The  clever  remark  of  a  French 
sociologist  that  •'  the  battle  of  life  is  fought  below  the  belt," 
holds  especially  good  with  regard  to  tlie  lower  classes.  "Well, 
I  may  unhesitatingly  say  that  in  no  country  are  the  poor  left 
in  greater  ignoranc"e  with  regard  to  cheap  and  nourisliiiig 
food  than  in  England,  if  I  am  to  judge  by  London.  The 
French,  the  German,  the  Italian,  the  Spanish  poor,  have  a 
dozen  inexpensive  and  succulent  dishes  of  wliicli  the  Eng- 
lish poor  know  absolutelv  nothing;  and  still  tliose  very 
dishes  figure  on  the  tables 'of  the  well-to-do,  and  of  fashion- 
able restaurants,  as  entrees  under  more  or  less  fantastic  names. 


432  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

Is  the  English  working  man  so  utterly  devoid  of  thrift  and 
of  common  sense,  is  his  contempt  for  the  foreigner  so  great 
as  to  make  him  refuse  to  take  a  lesson  from  the  latter  ?  I 
think  not.  I  fancy  it  will  depend  much  on  the  manner  in 
which  the  lesson  is  conveyed.  A  little  less  board-school  work 
and  Sunday-school  teaching,  fewer  Bible  classes,  and  a  good 
many  practical  cooking-classes  would  probably  meet  the  case. 
The  French,  though  aware  of  their  incontestable  supe- 
riority in  the  way  of  preparing  food,  did  not  disdain  to  take 
a  lesson  from  the  alien.  They  clearly  foresaw  the  fate  in 
store  for  the  cattle  penned  in  the  squares  and  public  gardens, 
if  compelled  to  remain  there  under  existing  conditions,  and 
with  the  inclement  season  close  at  hand  ;  consequently,  the 
authorities  enlisted  the  services  of  Mr.  Wilson,  an  Irish  gen- 
tleman who  had  been  residing  in  Paris  for  a  number  of  years, 
and  whose  experience  in  the  salted-provision  trade  seemed  to 
them  very  likely  to  yield  most  satisfactory  results.  Up  till 
then,  only  thirty  head  of  cattle  had  been  submitted  to  his 
process,  from  that  moment  the  number  is  considerably  in- 
creased, and  it  becomes  apparent  that,  in  a  short  while,  there 
will  be  few  live  oxen,  sheep,  or  pigs  left  in  Paris,  though,  as 
yet  we  are  only  in  the  beginning  of  October.  Under  Mr.  Wil- 
son's able  management,  half  a  hundred  Irishmen  are  at  work 
for  many,  many  hours  a  day  at  the  slaughter-house  in  La 
Villete,  whither  flock  the  Parisians,  at  any  rate  the  privi- 
leged ones,  to  watch  the  preliminaries  to  the  regime  of  salt- 
junk  which  is  staring  them  in  the  face.  The  fodder  thus 
economized  will  go  to  the  horses,  although  there  is  a  whisper 
in  the  air  that  one  eminent  savant  has  recommended  their 
immediate  slaughter  and  salting  also.  Of  course,  such  as  are 
wanted  for  military  purposes  will  be  exempted  from  this 
holocaust  on  the  altar  of  patriotism.  M.  Gagne,  who  has 
already  provided  the  Parisians  with  amusement  for  years,  in 
his  capacity  as  a  perpetual  candidate  for  parliamentary  hon- 
ours, does  not  stop  at  hippophagy ;  he  seriously  proposes  an- 
thropophagy. "  A  human  being  over  sixty  is  neither  useful 
nor  ornamental,"  he  exclaimed  at  a  public  meeting ;  "  and 
to  prove  that  I  mean  what  I  say,  I  am  willing  to  give  myself 
as  food  to  my  sublime  and  suffering  townsmen."  Poor  fel- 
low !  as  mad  as  a  March  hare,  but  a  man  of  education  and 
with  an  infinite  fund  of  sympathy  for  humanity.  He  was 
but  moderately  provided  for  at  the  best  of  times ;  his  income 
was  derived  from  some  property  in  the  provinces,  and,  as  a 


HORSEFLESH.  433 

matter  of  course,  the  investment  of  Paris  stopped  his  sup- 
plies of  funds  from  that  quarter.  lie  was  of  no  earthly  use 
in  the  besieged  city,  but  he  refused  to  go.  He  had  a  small 
but  very  valuable  collection  of  family  plate,  which  went  bit 
by  bit  to  the  Mint,  not  to  feed  himself  but  to  feed  others,  for 
he  was  never  weary  of  well-doing.  He  reminded  one  irre- 
sistibly of  Balzac's  hero,  "  le  Pere  Goriot,"  parting  with  his 
treasures  to  supply  his  ungrateful  daughters,  for  the  Parisians 
were  ungrateful  to  him.  Mad  as  he  was,  no  man  in  posses- 
sion of  all  his  mental  faculties  could  have  been  more  sub- 
lime. 

Whatever  the  question  of  human  flesh  as  food  may  have 
been  to  the  Parisians,  that  of  horseflesh  was  by  no  means 
new  to  them.  Since  ^66,  various  attempts  had  been  made  to 
introduce  it  on  a  large  scale,  but,  for  once  in  a  way,  they  were 
logical  in  their  objections  to  it.  "  It  is  all  very  well,"  wrote 
a  paper,  devoted  to  the  improvement  of  the  humbler  classes, 
— "  it  is  all  very  well  for  a  few  savants  to  sit  round  a  well- 
appointed  table  to  feast  upon  the  succulent  parts  of  a  young, 
tender,  and  perfectly  healthy  horse,  especially  if  the  steaks  are 
*  aux  truffes,'  and  the  kidneys  stewed  in  '  Madeira ; '  but  that 
young,  tender,  and  perfectly  healthy  horse  would  cost  more 
than  an  equally  tender,  young,  and  perfectly  healthy  bullock 
or  cow.  So, where  is  the  advantage?  In  order  to  obtain 
that  advantage,  horses  only  fit  for  the  knacker's  yard,  not  fit 
for  human  food,  would  have  to  be  killed,  and  the  hard-work- 
ing artisan  with  his  non-vitiated  taste,  who  does  not  even 
care  for  venison  or  game  when  it  happens  to  be  '  high,' 
would  certainly  not  care  for  a  superannuated  charger  to  be 
set  before  him.  You  might  just  as  well  ask  an  unsophisti- 
cated cannibal  to  feast  upon  an  invalid.  The  best  part  of 
'  the  warrior  on  the  shelf '  is  his  wooden  leg  or  his  wooden 
arm  ;  the  best  part  of  the  superannuated  charger  is  his  skin 
or  his  hoof,  with  or  without  the  shoe  ;  and  no  human  being, 
whether  cannibal  or  not,  can  be  expected  to  make  a  timber- 
yard,  a  tanner's  yard,  or  an  old-iron  and  rag  store  of  his 
stomach,  even  to  please  faddists." 

As  a  consequence,  only  two  millions  of  pounds  of  horse- 
flesh were  "  produced  "  during  the  first  three  years  succeed- 
ing the  publication  of  that  article  (18G6-G9) ;  but  it  is  more 
than  doubtful  whether  a  sixteenth  part  of  it  was  consumed 
as  human  food — with  a  knowledge  on  the  part  of  the  con- 
sumers. And  during  those  three  years,  as  if  to  prove  the 
19 


434  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

writer's  words,  the  public  were  being  constantly  fortified  in 
their  dislike  with  official  reports  of  the  seizure  of  diseased 
horses  on  their  way  to  the  four  specially  appointed  slaughter- 
houses. I  remember,  that  in  one  week,  twenty-four  ani- 
mals were  thus  confiscated  by  the  sanitary  inspectors,  "  the 
flesh  of  which,"  added  the  Moniteur,  "  would  have  probably 
found  its  way  to  the  tables  of  the  better  class  Parisians,  in 
the  shape  of  Aries,  Lorraine,  or  German  sausages.  These 
commodities,"  it  went  on,  "  are  never  offered  by  the  manu- 
facturer to  the  experienced  proprietors  of  the  ham  and  beef 
shops  (charcutiers),  but  to  fruiterers,  grocers,  vendors  of  so- 
called  dainties,  and  dealers  in  preserved  provisions."  The 
article  had  the  effect  of  arousing  the  suspicion  of  the  better 
classes  as  well  as  of  the  poorer. 

The  number  of  "  horse-butchers  "  had  decreased  by  four 
during  the  four  years  that  had  elapsed  since  their  first  estab- 
lishment with  the  Government's  sanction,  and  the  remaining 
eighteen  were  not  very  prosperous  when  the  siege  brought 
the  question  to  the  fore  once  more.  The  public  could  not 
afford  to  be  positively  hostile  to  the  scheme,  but  the  assertion 
of  the  rare  advocates  of  the  system,  that  they  were  enthu- 
siastic, is  altogether  beside  the  truth.  They  had  to  make  the 
best  of  a  bad  game,  that  was  all.  It  is  a  very  curious,  but 
positive  fact,  nevertheless,  that  I  have  heard  Parisians  speak 
favourably  afterwards  of  dog's  and  cat's  flesh,  even  of  rats 
baked  in  a  pie ;  I  have  heard  them  say  that,  for  once  in  a 
way,  even  under  ordinary  circumstances,  they  would  not  mind 
partaking  of  those  dishes  :  I  have  never  heard  them  express 
the  same  good  will  toward  horseflesh.  Of  course,  I  am  allud- 
ing to  those  who  affected  no  partisanship,  either  one  way  or  the 
other.  One  thing  is  very  certain,  though  :  at  the  end  of  the 
siege  the  sight  of  a  cat  or  dog  was  a  rarity  in  Paris,  while 
by  the  official  reports  there  were  thirty  thousand  horses 
left.  .  ,    . 

Meanwhile,  the  Academic  de  Sciences  is  attracting  notice 
by  the  reports  of  its  sittings,  in  which  the  question  of  food 
is  the  only  subject  discussed.  Professor  Dorderone  reads  a 
paper  on  the  utilization  of  beef  and  mutton  fat;  and  he 
communicates  a  new  process  with  regard  to  kidney  fat, 
which,  up  till  then,  had  withstood  the  attempts  of  the  most 
celebrated  chefs  for  culinary  purposes.  He  professes  to  have 
discovered  the  means  of  doing  away  with  the  unpleasant 
taste  and  smell  which  have  hitherto  militated  against  its 


FAT  \T:RSUS  butter.  435 

use,  he  undertakes  to  give  it  the  flavour  and  aroma  of  the 
best  butter  from  Brittany  and  Normandy.  M.  Richard,  the 
maire  of  La  Villette,  attempts  similar  experiments  with  ani- 
mal olfal,  which  M.  Dumas,  the  great  savant,  declares  highly 
satisfactory.  M.  Hiche,  one  of  the  superior  officials  of  the 
Mint,  transforms  bullock's  blood  iuto  black  puddings,  which 
are  voted  superior  to  those  hitherto  made  with  pig's  blood. 
The  nourishing  properties  of  gelatine  are  demonstrated  in 
an  equally  scientific  manner,  and  the  Academic  des  Sciences 
gradually  becomes  the  rendezvous  of  the  fair  ones  of  Paris, 
who  come  to  take  lessons  in  the  culinary  art. 

"  Mais,  monsieur,"  says  one,  "  maintenant  que  nous 
avons  du  beurre,  veuillez  nous  dire  d'ou  viendront  nos 
epinards  ?  "  * 

"Don't  let  that  trouble  you,  madame,"  is  the  answer; 
"  if  you  will  honour  us  with  your  presence  next  week,  one 
of  our  learned  friends  from  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  will  tell 
you  how  to  grow  salads,  and  perhaps  asparagus,  on  your 
balcony  and  in  front  of  your  windows,  in  less  than  a  fort- 
night." 

The  learned  professor  is  not  trying  to  mystify  his  charm- 
ing interlocutor ;  he  honestly  believes  in  what  he  says :  and, 
a  week  later,  when  "  the  friend  from  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  " 
has  spoken,  there  is  a  wonderful  run  on  all  the  seed-shops 
near  the  Chatelet,  every  one  tries  to  borrow  flower-pots  from 
his  neighbours,  and  barrow-loads  of  mould  are  being  trun- 
dled in  long  lines  into  Paris.  Wherever  one  goes,  the  eye 
meets  careful  housewives  bending  over  wooden  boxes  on  the 
balconies;  M.  Philippe  Lockroy,  the  eminent  actor  and 
dramatist,  the  father  of  M.  Edouard  Lockroy,  the  future 
minister  of  the  Third  Republic,  asks  seriously  why  we 
should  not  revive  the  hanging  gardens  of  Semiramis,  and 
sets  the  example  by  converting  his  fifth  floor  balcony  into  a 
market  garden,  to  "the  discomfiture  of  his  son,  who  finds  his 
erstwhile  bedroom  converted  into  a  storehouse  for  tools  and 
less  agreeable  matter.  I  may  mention  that  M.  Lockroy  did 
not  abandon  his  project  after  a  mere  fleeting  attempt,  nor 
when  the  necessity  for  it  had  disappeared,  but  that  at  the 
hour  I  write  (1883)  he  has  taken  a  prize  for  pears  grown  on 
that  same  balcony. 


*  "  Mettre  du  beurre  dans  ses  6pinaKls,"  means,  figuratively,  to  increase  one's 
comforts. — Editok. 


436  -A.N  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

The  mania  spreads,  and  every  one  becomes,  for  the  time 
being,  a  market-gardener  in  chambers.  Even  M.  Pierre 
Joigneux,  the  well-known  horticulturist,  and  equally  clever 
writer,  is  bitten  with  it.  That  the  thing  was  perfectly  feasi- 
ble, was  proved  subsequently  by  M.  Lockroy,  but  the  latter 
did  not  imitate  the  nigger  who  dug  up  the  potatoes  an  hour 
after  he  had  planted  them,  to  see  if  they  were  growing. 
That  thoroughly  inexperienced  persons  should  have  indulged 
in  such  wild  fancies  is  perhaps  not  to  be  wondered  at ;  but 
M.  Joigneux  was  not  one  of  these,  yet  he  provided  an  Eng- 
lishman, who  had  come  to  propose  the  experiment  to  him, 
with  all  the  necessary  funds.  "  I  was  perfectly  certain  that 
I  should  never  see  him  again,"  he  said  afterwards ;  but,  with 
all  due  deference,  we  may  take  this  as  a  shamefaced  denial 
of  his  credulity.  "  Contrary  to  my  expectations,"  M.  Joig- 
neux went  on,  when  he  told  us  the  tale  a  few  nights  after- 
wards at  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix — he  lived  in  the  Kue  du  4  Sep- 
tembre, — "  my  Englishman  did  come  back,  accompanied  by 
a  porter  who  carried  the  requisite  material.  I  did  not  inter- 
fere with  him  in  the  least,  but  merely  watched  him.  I  knew 
that  in  England  they  did  produce  '  greenstuff '  in  that  way ; 
though  I  was  also  aware  of  the  difference  between  a  few 
blades  and  a  serious  crop." 

Others,  more  ingenious  still,  began  to  argue  that  if  it  was 
possible  to  produce  vegetables  in  a  fortnight  by  means  of 
light  and  a  few  handfuls  of  mould,  it  could  not  be  difficult 
to  produce  mushrooms  with  a  much  thicker  layer  of  mould 
and  in  the  darkness  of  a  cellar. 

Fortunately  there  is,  as  yet,  a  very  decent  kitchen -garden 
to  fall  back  upon.  It  lies  between  the  fortifications  and  the 
forts  ;  it  has  been  somewhat  pillaged  at  first,  but  the  authori- 
ties have  organized  several  companies  of  labourers  from  among 
those  whom  they  have  not  been  able  to  provide  with  arms, 
and  those  who  do  not  dig  or  delve  keep  watch  against  depre- 
dation. They  have  a  very  simple  uniform — a  black  kepi  with 
crimson  piping,  and  a  crimson  belt  round  their  waists.  They 
are  exposed  to  a  certain  danger,  for  every  now  and  then  a 
stray  German  bullet  lays  one  of  them  low,  but,  upon  the 
whole,  their  lot  is  not  a  hard  one. 

"  We  have  still  nearly  everything  we  want,"  writes  a  face- 
tious journalist ;  "  and  now  that  good  and  obliging  fellow, 
Gambetta,  is  going  to  fetch  us  some  cream  cheese  from  the 
moon  for  our  dessert." 


DEPARTURE  OF  GAMBETTA.         437 

In  fact,  during  the  last  few  days,  we  have  been  informed 
of  the  Minister  of  the  Interior's  impending  departure  for 
Tours  by  balloon  on  the  7th  of  October,  and  by  twelve 
o'clock  on  that  day  the  little  Place  St.  Pierre,  right  on  the 
heights  of  Montmartre,  is  simply  black  with  people.  "  The 
great  statesman,"  the  "  hero  who  is  to  rouse  the  provinces  to 
unheard-of  efforts  for  the  deliverance  of  the  sacred  soil  of 
France  from  the  polluting  presence  of  the  Teutonic  barba- 
rian," has  not  arrived  yet  when  I  edge  ray  way  through  the 
crowd,  accompanied  by  an  officer  on  General  Vinoy's  staff, 
who  is  a  near  relative  of  mine.  With  the  recollection  of  my 
adventure  m  the  Avenue  de  Clichy  fresh  upon  me,  I  would 
not  have  ventured  to  come  by  myself.  There  is  a  military 
post  on  the  Place  St.  Pierre,  and  I  am  wondering  whether  it 
Avill  turn  out  to  pay  honours  to  "  the  great  statesman ; "  and 
whether  Nadar,  the  famous  Nadar,  whom  I  can  see  towering 
above  the  crowd,  and  giving  instructions,  will  treat  Gam- 
betta  with  the  same  scant  courtesy  he  once  treated  Louis- 
Napoleon,  when  the  latter  went  to  see  the  ascent  of  his  bal- 
loon, "  Le  Geant,"  from  the  Champ-de-Mars.  Nadar's  be- 
haviour on  that  occasion  reminds  one  of  Elizabeth's  with  the 
wife  of  Bishop  Parker.  " '  Madam,' "  said  the  queen,  "  I 
may  not  call  you,  and  '  mistress '  I  am  loth  to  call  you." 
Nadar  was  too  fervent  a  republican  to  call  Louis-Napoleon 
"  Majesty ; "  he  was  too  well-bred  to  insult  his  guest  by  ad- 
dressing him  as  "  Monsieur  : "  so,  when  he  saw  the  sovereign 
advancing,  he  backed  towards  his  car,  and,  before  he  could 
come  up  with  him,  gave  orders  to  "  let  go." 

I  do  not  know  whether  Gambetta  came  in  a  carriage.  It 
did  not  ma.ke  its  appearance  on  the  Place  St.  Pierre;  he 
probably  left  it,  like  meaner  mortals,  at  the  foot  of  the  very 
steep  hill.  The  cheering  was  immense,  and  he  took  it  as  if 
to  the  manner  born.  He  was  accompanied  by  M.  Spuller, 
who  was  to  take  the  journey  with  him,  and  who,  even  at  that 
time,  bore  a  curious  likeness  to  Mr.  Spurgeon.  M.  Spuller  did 
not  appear  to  claim  any  of  the  cheers  for  himself,  for  he  kept 
perfectly  stolid.  Gambetta,  on  the  other  hand,  bowed  re- 
peatedly, at  which  Nadar  grinned.  Nadar  was  always  honest, 
if  outspoken.  He  did  not  seem  particularly  pleased  with 
the  business  in  hand,  and  was  evidently  determined  to  get 
it  over  as  soon  as  possible.  Gambetta  was  still  standing  up, 
bowing  and  waving  his  hands,  when  Nadar  gave  the  order 
to  "  let  go  "  the  ropes,  and  the  dictator  fell  back  into  the  lap 


438  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

of  his  companion.  The  balloon  rose  rather  quickly,  and 
about  nine  that  same  night  we  had  the  news  that  the  balloon 
had  safely  landed  in  the  Department  of  the  Oise,  about  twelve 
miles  from  Clermont. 

From  that  moment,  the  ascent  of  a  balloon  with  its  car 
containing  one  or  two,  sometimes  three,  wicker  cages  of  car- 
rier-pigeons, becomes  a  favourite  spectacle  with  the  Parisians, 
who  would  willingly  see  the  departure  of  a  dozen  per  day. 
For  each  departure  means  not  only  the  conveyance  of  a 
budget  of  news  from  the  besieged  city  to  the  provinces,  it 
means  the  return  of  the  winged  messengers  with  perhaps 
hopeful  tidings  that  the  provinces  are  marching  to  the  rescue. 
I  am  bound  to  say,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  terrible  anxiety 
for  such  rescue  did  not  arise  solely  from  a  wish  to  escape  fur- 
ther physical  sufferings  and  privations.  Three-fourths  of 
the  Parisians  would  have  been  willing  to  put  up  with  worse 
for  the  sake  of  one  terrible  defeat  inflicted  upon  the  Germans 
by  their  levies  or  by  those  in  the  provinces. 

But  though  the  gas  companies  did  wonders,  fifty-two 
balloons  having  been  inflated  by  them  during  the  siege,  they 
could  do  no  more.  Nevertheless,  the  experiments  continue  : 
the  brothers  Goddard  have  established  their  head-quarters 
at  the  Orleans  Railway ;  MM.  Dartois  and  Yon  at  the  North- 
ern ;  Admiral  Labrousse,who  has  already  invented  an  ingen- 
ious gun-carriage,  is  now  busy  upon  a  navigable  balloon  ;  the 
Government  grants  a  subsidy  of  forty  thousand  francs  to  M. 
Dupuy  de  Lome  to  assist  him  in  his  research ;  and  at  the 
Grande  H6tel  there  is  a  permanent  exhibition  of  appliances 
for  navigating  the  air  under  the  direction  of  MM.  Horeau 
and  Saint-Felix.  The  public  flock  to  them,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment there  is  the  hope  that  if  we  ourselves  cannot  come  and 
go  as  free  as  birds,  there  will  be  at  least  a  means  of  perma- 
nent communication  with  the  outer  world  that  Avay.  M. 
Granier  has  proposed  to  make  an  aerial  telegraph  without  the 
support  of  poles.  The  wire  is  to  be  enclosed  in  a  gutta- 
percha tube  filled  with  hydrogen  gas,  which  will  enable  it  to 
keep  its  altitude  a  thousand  or  fifteen  hundred  meters  above 
tlie  earth.  The  cable  is  to  be  paid  out  by  balloons.  M.  Gaston 
Tissandier,  a  well-known  authority  in  such  matters,  looks  fav- 
ourably upon  the  experiment ;  but,  alas,  it  comes  to  nothing, 
and  we  have  to  fall  back  upon  less  ingenious,  more  common- 
place means. 

In  other  words,  we  are  offering  tempting  fees  to  plucky 


POSTAL  EXPERIMENTS.  439 

individuals  who  will  attempt  to  cross  the  Prussian  lines. 
Several  do  make  the  attempt,  and  for  a  week  or  so  the  news- 
papers and  the  walls  swarm  with  advertisements  of  a  pri- 
vate firm  who  will  forward  and  receive  despatches  at  the 
rate  of  ten  francs  per  letter.  A  good  many  messengers  de- 
part ;  a  good  many  return  almost  at  once,  finding  the  task 
impossible ;  those  that  do  not  return  have  presumably  been 
shot  by  the  Prussians,  for  not  a  single  one  reached  his  des- 
tination. 

Then  we  begin  to  turn  our  thoughts  to  the  sheep-dog  as 
a  carrier  of  messengers,  or  rather  to  the  smuggler's  dog, 
thousands  of  which  are  known  to  exist  on  the  Belgian  and 
Swiss  frontiers.  The  postal  authorities  go  even  so  far  as  to 
promise  two  hundred  francs  for  every  batch  of  despatches 
if  delivered  within  twenty-four  hours  of  the  animal's  de- 
parture from  his  starting-place,  and  fifty  francs  less  for 
every  twenty-four  hours'  delay ;  but  the  animals  fall  a  prey 
to  the  Prussian  sentries,  not  one  of  them  succeeds  in  reach- 
ing the  French  outposts.  The  carrier-pigeon  is  all  we  have 
left. 

Still,  we  are  not  discouraged  ;  and  in  less  than  a  month 
after  the  investment,  the  Parisians  begin  to  clamour  for  their 
favourite  amusement — the  theatre.  There  are,  of  course, 
many  divergencies  of  opinion  with  regard  to  the  fitness  of 
the  measure,  and  we  get  some  capital  articles  on  the  subject, 
studded  with  witty  sentences  and  relieved  by  historical  anec- 
dotes, showing  that,  whatever  they  may  not  know,  French 
journalists  have  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  parallels  when  it 
becomes  a  question  of  the  playhouse.  "  In  '92  the  Lillois 
went  peacefully  to  the  theatre  while  the  shells  were  pouring 
into  the  devoted  city.  Why  should  we  be  less  courageous 
and  less  cheerful  than  they?"  writes  one.  "N"erowas  fid- 
dling while  Eome  was  burning,"  writes  another,  "  but  Paris* 
is  not  on  fire  yet ;  and,  if  it  Avere,  the  Nero  who  might  be 
blamed  for  the  catastrophe  is  at  Wilhelmshohe,  where,  we 
may  be  sure,  he  will  not  eat  a  mouLhful  less  for  our  pangs  of 
hunger.  If  he  does  not  fiddle,  it  is  because,  like  his  famous 
uncle,  he  has  no  ear  for  music." 

"  Whatever  may  happen,"  writes  M.  Francisque  Sarcey  in 
the  Gaulois, "  art  should  be  considered  superior  to  all  things ; 
the  theatre  is  not  a  more  unseemly  pleasure  under  the  cir- 
cumstances than  the  perusal  of  a  good  book ;  and  it  is  just 
in  the  darkest  and  saddest  hours  of  his  life  that  a  man  needs 


440  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

a  diversion  which  will,  for  a  little  while,  at  least,  prevent  him 
from  brooding  upon  his  sufferings." 

To  which  "  Thomas  Grimm,"  of  Le  Petit  Journal,  who 
is  on  the  opposite  side,  replies :  "  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  in- 
tervene in  so  grave  a  question,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  say- 
ing that  the  time  for  singing  and  amusing  ourselves  has 
not  arrived.  It  seems  to  me  very  doubtful  whether  the  spec- 
tators would  not  be  constantly  thinking  of  scenes  enacted  in 
other  spots  than  behind  the  footlights.  And  in  such  moments, 
when  they  might  concentrate  the  whole  of  their  attention  on 
the  pleasant  fiction  enacted  before  them,  the  sound  of  the 
cannon  thundering  in  the  distance  would  more  than  once  re- 
call them  to  the  reality." 

The  ice  was  virtually  broken,  and  on  Sunday,  the  23rd 
of  October,  the  Cirque  National  opened  its  doors  for  a  con- 
cert. During  the  last  five  years,  as  my  readers  will  perceive 
by  the  almost  involuntary  break  in  these  notes,  I  had  not 
been  so  assiduous  a  frequenter  of  the  theatre  and  the  concert 
hall  as  I  used  to  be,  and  though  I  was  during  the  siege  over- 
burdened with  business,  on  the  nature  of  which  I  need  not 
dwell  here,  I  felt  that  I  wanted  some  amusement.  The  even- 
ings were  iDecoming  chilly,  one  of  my  cherished  companions 
was  doing  his  duty  with  General  Vinoy,  and,  though  I  had 
practically  unlimited  means  at  my  command  for  my  necessi- 
ties, and  am  by  no  means  sparing  of  money  at  any  time,  I 
grudged  the  price  of  fuel.  As  yet,  wood  only  cost  six  francs 
the  hundredweight,  but  it  was  such  wood !  If  the  ancient 
proverb-coiner  had  been  seated  in  front  of  the  hearth  in 
which  it  was  trying  to  burn,  he  might  have  hesitated  to 
write  that  "  there  is  no  smoke  without  a  fire."  The  friendly 
chats  by  the  fireside,  which  I  had  enjoyed  for  many  years, 
had  almost  entirely  ceased.  Nearly  all  my  familiars  were 
"  on  duty,"  and  the  few  hours  they  could  snatch  were  either 
spent  in  bed,  to  rest  from  the  fatigue  and  discomforts  of  the 
night,  or  else  at  the  cafes  and  restaurants,  where  the  news, 
mostly  of  an  anecdotal  kind,  was  circulating  freely.  In  fact, 
the  cafes  and- restaurants,  as  long  as  there  was  fuel  and  light, 
were  more  amusing  during  the  siege  than  I  had  known  them 
to  be  at  any  time.  Perhaps  the  most  amusing  feature  of 
these  nightly  gatherings  was  the  presentation  of  the  bill 
after  dinner.  The  prices  charged  at  the  Cafe  de  Paris  in  its 
palmiest  days  were  child's  play  compared  to  the  actual  ones. 
I  have  preserved  the  note  of  a  breakfast  for  two  at  Durand's. 


AMUSEMENTS. 


Hors  d'OEuvres  (Radishes  and  Sausage) 
Entree  (Navarin  aux  Poinmes) 
Filet  de  Boeuf  aux  Champignons  . 
Omelette  Sucree  (3  oeufs) 
Cafe        ...... 

1  Bouteille  de  Macon 


441 


frs. 
10 
18 
24 
13 
1 
6 


Total  frs.     71 

The  bread  and  butter  were  included  in  the  hors-d'oeuvres, 
and  I  may  remark  that  the  entree  and  the  filet  de  boeuf  were 
only  for  one.  Durand's  was  the  cheapest  of  the  five  restau- 
rants which  still  retained  their  ordinary  clientele.  Bignon, 
Voisin,  the  Cafes  de  la  Paix  and  Anglais  were  much  dearer! 
The  latter  gave  its  jaatrons  white  bread  as  late  as  the  16th  of 
December. 

I  made  up  my  mind,  then,  to  go  to  that  concert  at  the 
Cirque  National,  and  to  as  many  of  the  entertainments  as 
might  be  offered.  I  have  rarely  seen  such  a  crowd  outside  a 
theatre ;  and  I  doubt  whether  the  fact  of  the  performance 
being  for  a  charitable  purpose  had  much  to  do  with  it,  be- 
cause, if  so,  those  who  were  denied  admission  might  have 
handed  their  money  at  the  box-office,  but  they  did  not,  they 
only  gave  the  reverse  of  their  blessing.  If  charity  it  was,  it 
did  not  want  to  end  at  home  that  afternoon. 

The  entertainment  began  with  a  charity  sermon  by  the 
Abbe  Duquesnay,  a  hardworking  priest  in  one  of  the  thickly 
populated  quarters  of  Paris.  I  would  willingly  give  another 
ten  francs  to  hear  a  similar  sermon.  I  am  positive  that  the 
Abbe  had  taken  Laurence  Sterne  for  his  model.  I  have 
never  heard  anything  so  brilliant  in  my  life.  Xot  the 
slightest  attempt  at  thrusting  religion  down  one's  throat. 
A  good  many  quotations  on  the  advantages  of  well-doing, 
notably  that  of  Shakespeare,  admirably  translated,  probably 
by  the  speaker  himself.  Then  the  following  to  Avind  up 
with  :  "  I  do  not  know  of  a  single  curmudgeon  who  has  ever 
been  converted  into  what  I  should  call  'a  genuine  alms- 
giver,'  by  myself,  or  by  my  fellow-priests.  When  he  did 
give,  he  looked  upon  the  gift  as  a  loan  to  the  Lord  in  virtue 
of  that  gospel  precept  which  you  all  know.  N^ow,  my  good 
friends,  allow  me  to  give  you  my  view  of  that  sentence :  God 
is  just,  and  no  doubt  He  will  repay  the  loan  with  interest, 
but  after  He  has  settled  the  account.  Pie  will  indict  the  lender 
before  the  Highest  tribunal  for  usury.     Consequently,  if  you 


4i2  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS.^^ 

have  an  idea  of  placing  your  money  in  that  way  with  God  as 
a  security,  you  had  bettor  keep  it  in  your  purses." 

After  this,  the  orchestra,  nine-tenths  of  whose  members 
are  in  uniform,  performs  the  overture  to  "  La  Muette  de 
Portici "  (Masaniello) ;  Pasdeloup  conducting.  Pasdeloup 
is  a  naturalized  Grerman,  whose  real  name  is  Wolfgang,  but, 
in  this  instance,  the  public  do  not  seem  to  mind  it ;  nor  is 
there  any  protest  against  the  names  of  two  other  Germans 
on  the  programme,  Weber's  and  Beethoven's.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  latter's  composition  is  frantically  encored.  I  be- 
lieve it  is  the  symphony  in  C  Minor,  for  it  has  been  wedded 
to  Victor  Hugo's  words,  and  it  is  Madame  Ugalde  who  sings 
the  stirring  hymn  "  Patria," 

There  is  a  story  connected  with  this  hymn,  which  is  not 
generally  known.  I  give  it  as  it  was  told  to  me  a  day  or  so 
afterwards  by  Auber,  who  had  it  from  the  lips  of  Joseph 
Dartigues,  who,  at  the  time  of  its  occurrence,  was  the  musical 
critic  of  the  Journal  des  Debats. 

Hugo  was  very  young  then,  and  one  night  he  went  to  the 
Theatre  de  Madame,  which  has  since  become  the  Gymnase. 
The  piece  was  one  of  Scribe's — "  La  Chatte  metamorphosee 
en  Femme ; "  and  Jenny  Vertpre,  whom  our  grandfathers 
applauded  at  the  St.  James  Theatre  in  the  thirties,  was  to 
play  the  principal  part.  Still,  our  poet  was  not  particularly 
struck  with  the  plot,  dialogue,  or  lyrics ;  but,  all  at  once,  he 
sat  upright  in  his  seat,  at  the  strains  of  a  "  Hindoo  invoca- 
tion." When  the  music  ceased,  Hugo  left  the  house,  hum- 
ming the  notes  to  himself  He  was  very  fond  of  music, 
though  he  could  never  reconcile  himself  to  have  his  dramas 
appropriated  by  the  librettists,  and  gave  his  consent  but  very 
reluctantly.  Next  morning,  he  met  Dartigues  on  the  Boule- 
vard des  Italiens,  then  the  Boulevard  de  Gand.  He  told  him 
what  he  had  heard,  and  recommended  the  critic  to  go  and 
judge  for  himself.  "  It  is  so  utterly  different  from  the  idiotic 
stuff  one  generally  hears."  Dartigues  acted  upon  the  recom- 
mendation. A  few  days  later,  they  met  once  more.  "  Did 
you  go  and  hear  that  music,  at  the  Thedtre  de  Madame  ? " 
asked  Hugo. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  am  not  surprised  at  your  lik- 
ing it ;  it  is  Beethoven's." 

Curious  to  relate,  Hugo  had  not  as  much  as  heard  the 
name  of  the  great  German  composer.  The  acquaintance  with 
classical  music  was  very  limited  in  the  France  of  those  days. 


THE  THEATRES. 


448 


But  Hugo  never  forgot  the  symphony,  and,  later  on,  in  his 
exile,  he  wrote  the  words  I  had  just  heard. 

The  impulse  has  been  given,  and  from  that  moment  the 
walls  of  Paris  display  as  many  bills  of  theatrical  and  musical 
entertainments  as  if  the  Germans  were  not  at  the  gates.  I 
go  to  nearly  all,  and,  to  my  great  regret,  hear  a  great  many 
actors  and  actresses  who  have  received  favours  and  honours 
at  the  hand  of  Louis-Napoleon  vie  with  one  another  in  cast- 
ing obloquy  upon  him  and  his  reign.  One  of  the  few  honour- 
able exceptions  is  M.  Got,  who,  being  invited  to  recite  Hugo's 
"  Chatiments,"  emphatically  refuses  "  to  kick  a  man  when  he 
is  down." 

At  the  Theatre-Fran9ais,  there  is  a  special  box — the 
erstwhile  Imperial  box — for  the  convalescents,  who  are  being 
tended  in  the  theatre  itself. 

But  though  I  went  to  hear  Melchisedec  and  Taillade, 
Caron  and  Berthelier,  there  is  one  performance  that  stands 
out  vividly  from  the  rest  in  my  memory.  It  was  a  representa- 
tion of  Hugo's  "  Le  Eoi  s'amuse  "  ("  The  Fool's  Eevenge  "), 
at  the  theatre  at  Montmartre.  Under  ordinary  circumstances, 
I  should  probably  not  have  gone  so  far  afield  to  see  any  piece, 
not  even  that  which  was  reputed  to  be  the  masterpiece  of 
Victor  Hugo,  but,  in  this  instance,  the  temptation  was  too 
great.  The  play  had  only  been  performed  in  Paris  once — on 
the  22nd  of  November,  1832;  next  day  it  was  suspended  by 
order  of  the  Government.  Alexandre  Dumas  the  elder, 
Theophile  Gautier,  Nestor  Koqueplan,  all  of  whom  wera 
present  on  that  memorable  night,  had  spoken  to  me  of  its 
beauties.  I  had  often  promised  myself  to  read  it,  and  had 
never  done  so.  If  I  had,  I  should  probably  not  have  gone  to 
Montmartre  that  night,  lest  my  illusions  should  be  disturbed. 
The  performance  was  intended  as  a  tribute  to  the  genius  of 
the  poet,  but  also  as  an  act  of  defiance  on  the  part  of  the 
young  Eepublic  to  the  preceding  regimes ;  though  why  it  was 
not  revived  during  the  Second  Eepublic  I  have  never  been 
able  to  make  out  clearly. 

My  companion  and  I  toiled  up  the  steep  Eue  des  Martyrs, 
and  it  was  evident  to  us,  when  we  got  to  the  Place  du  Theatre, 
that  something  unusual  was  going  on,  for  the  little  square 
was  absolutely  black  with  people.  We  managed,  however,  to 
elbow  our  way  through,  and  to  get  two  stalls.  The  house 
was  dimly  lighted  by  gas,  the  deficiency  made  up,  as  far  I 
could  see,  by  lamps  in  the  auditorium,  by  candles  on  the 


444  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

stage.  There  was  not  an  empty  seat  anywhere.  The  over- 
ture, consisting  of  snatches  from  "  Eigoletto,"  was  received 
with  deafening  applause,  and  then  the  curtain  rose  upon  the 
magnificent  hall  in  the  Louvre  of  Fran9ois  I.,  with  the  king 
surrounded  by  his  courtiers  and  his  favourites.  By  his  side 
hobbled  Triboulet,  his  evil  genius,  as  Hugo  has  represented 
him. 

My  disappointment  was  great.  I  had  come  to  admire, 
not  expecting  magnificent  scenery,  gorgeous  costumes,  or 
transcendent  acting,  but  a  spirit  of  reverence  for  the  im- 
mortal creation  of  a  great  poet.  At  that  time  I  was  not 
suflBciently  familiar  with  provincial  art  in  England  to  be  able 
to  picture  a  performance  of  Shakespeare  except  under  con- 
ditions such  as  prevail  in  the  best  of  London  theatres.  I  had 
read  accounts,  however,  of  strolling  companies  and  their 
doings,  but  I  doubt  whether  the  humblest  would  have  been 
guilty  of  such  utter  iconoclasm  in  the  spirit  as  well  as  in  the 
letter  as  I  witnessed  that  night.  It  was  not  comic,  it  was 
absolutely  painful.  It  was  not  the  glazed  calico  doing  duty 
for  brocade,  that  made  me  wince ;  it  was  not  the  anti-macassar 
replacing  lace  that  made  me  gasp  for  breath :  it  was  the 
miserable  failure  of  those  behind  the  footlights,  as  well  as  of 
those  in  front,  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  simplest  line. 
They  had  been  told  that  this  play  was  an  indictment,  not 
against  a  libertine  king,  but  against  generations  and  genera- 
tions of  rulers  to  whom  debauch  was  as  the  air  they  breathed. 
And,  in  order  to  make  the  lesson  more  striking.  Saint- Vallier 
was  represented  as  an  old  dotard,  Triboulet  as  a  pander,  the 
king  as  an  amorous  Bill  Sykes,  and  Triboulet's  daughter  as 
an  hysterical  young  woman  who  virtually  gloried  in  her  dis- 
honour. I  had  seen  "  Orphee  aux  Enf  ers,"  "  La  Belle  Helene," 
and  "  La  Grande  Duchesse ;  "  I  had  heard  Schneider  at  her 
best  and  at  her  worst ;  I  had  heard  women  of  birth  and  breed- 
ing titter,  and  gentlemen  roar,  at  allusions  which  would  make 
a  London  coalheaver  blush ; — I  had  never  seen  anything  so 
downright  degrading  as  this  performance.  And  when,  at 
last,  the  dramatis  personm  gathered  round  a  bust  of  Hippoc- 
rates— the  best  substitute  for  one  of  Victor  Hugo  they  could 
find, — and  one  of  them  recited  "  Les  Chatiments,"  I  left,  hop- 
ing that  I  should  never  see  such  an  exhibition  again.  It  was 
one  of  the  first  deliberately  planned  lessons  in  "  king-hatred  " 
I  had  heard.  The  disciples  looked  to  me  very  promising,  and 
the  Commune,  when  it  came,  was  not  such  a  surprise  to  me, 


"L'ESPRIT  XE  PERD  JAMAIS  SES  DROITS."       44,5 

after  all.  Before  then,  I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  barbarians  outside  the  gates  of  Paris  were  less  to  be 
feared  than  those  inside — the  former,  at  any  rate,  believed  in 
a  chief ;  the  motto  of  the  others  was,  "  Ni  Dieu,  ni  maitre." 

Meanwhile,  the  long  winter  nights  have  come.  The  stock 
of  gas  is  pretty  well  exhausted,  or  tantamount  to  it ;  wood, 
similar  to  that  I  have  described  already,  has  risen  to  seven 
francs  fifty  centimes  the  hundredweight.  Beef  and  mutton 
have  entirely  disappeared  from  the  butchers'  stalls.  Eats 
are  beginning  to  be  sold  at  one  franc  apiece,  and  eggs  cost 
thirty  fi'ancs  a  dozen.  Butter  has  risen  to  fifty  francs  the 
half-kilogramme  (about  seventeen  ozs.,  English).  Carrots 
and  potatoes  fetch,  the  first,  forty  francs,  the  second,  twenty 
francs,  the  peck  (English).  I  am  being  told  that  milk  is  still 
to  be  had,  but  I  have  neither  tasted  nor  seen  any  for  ten  days. 
Personally,  I  do  not  feel  the  want  of  it ;  but  in  my  visits  to 
some  of  the  poor  in  my  neighbourhood  I  am  confronted  by 
the  fact  of  little  ones,  between  two  and  three  years  of  age, 
being  fed  on  bread  soaked  in  wine,  and  suffering  from  vari- 
ous ailments  in  consequence. 

I  am  pursuing  some  inquiries  at  the  various  mairies,  and 
find  that  the  death-rate  for  October  has  reached  nearly  three 
thousand  above  the  corresponding  month  of  the  previous 
year.  I  am  furthermore  told  that  not  a  third  of  this  increase 
is  due  to  the  direct  results  of  the  siege — that  is,  to  death  on 
the  battle-field,  or  resulting  from  wounds  received  there ; 
typhus  and  low  fever,  annemia,  etc.,  are  beginning  to  ravage 
the  inhabitants.  Worse  than  all,  the  authorities  have  made 
a  mistake  with  regard  to  the  influx  of  strangers.  The  seventy- 
five  thousand  aliens  and  Parisians  who  have  left  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  siege  have  been  replaced  by  three  times  that 
number,  so  that  Paris  has  virtually  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  more  mouths  to  feed  than  it  counted  upon.  "  All 
the  women,  children,  and  old  men,"  says  one  of  my  inform- 
ants, "  ought  to  have  been  removed  to  some  provincial  centre ; 
it  would  have  cost  no  more,  and  would  have  left  those  who 
remained  free  for  a  more  energetic  defence.  And  you  will 
scarcely  believe  it,  monsieur,  but  here  is  the  register  to  prove 
it ;  there  have  been  nearly  four  hundred  marriages  celebrated 
during  the  past  month.  It  looks  to  me  like  tying  the  Gordian 
knot  with  a  vengeance." 

One  thing  I  cannot  help  remarking  amidst  all  this  suffer- 
ing ;  the  Parisian  never  ceases  to  be  witty.    Among  my  pen- 


440  AN   ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

sioners  there  was  the  wife  of  a  hard-working,  frugal  uphol- 
sterer, whose  trade  was  absolutely  at  a  standstill.  He  was 
doing  his  duty  on  the  fortifications ;  she  was  keeping  the 
home  together  on  the  meagre  pittance  allowed  to  her  hus- 
band by  the  Government,  and  the  rations  doled  out  to  her 
every  morning.  The  youngest  of  her  three  children  was 
barely  four  weeks  old.  One  morning,  to  my  great  surprise,  I 
found  two  infants  in  her  lap.  "  C'est  com  me  9a,  monsieur," 
she  said,  with  a  wan  smile.  "  Andre  found  it  on  a  doorstep 
in  the  Kue  Mogador,  and  he  brought  it  home,  saying,  '  It 
won't  make  much  difference ;  Nature  laid  the  table  for  two 
infants.' " 

The  Parisian  is  a  born  lounger.  Balzac  had  said,  "  Flaner 
est  une  science,  c'est  la  gastronomic  de  I'cei]."  Seeing  that  it  is 
the  only  gastronomy  they  can  enjoy  under  the  circumstances, 
the  Parisians  take  to  it  with  a  vengeance  during  th«se  months 
of  October  and  November,  and  their  favourite  halting-places 
are  the  rare  provision-shops  that  have  still  a  fowl,  or  a  goose, 
or  a  pigeon  in  their  windows.  The  sight  of  a  turkey  causes 
an  obstruction,  and  the  would-be  purchaser  of  a  rabbit  is 
mobbed  like  the  winner  of  a  great  prize  in  the  lottery.  Nine 
times  out  of  ten  the  negotiations  do  not  go  beyond  the  pre- 
liminary stage  of  inquiring  the  price,  because  vendors  are 
obstinate,  though  polite. 

"  How  much  for  the  rabbit  ?  "  says  the  supposed  Nabob, 
for  the  very  fact  of  inquiring  implies  wealth: 

"  Forty-five  francs,  monsieur." 

"  You  are  joking.  Forty-five  francs  !  It's  simply  ridicu- 
lous," protests  the  other  one. 

"  I  am  not  joking,  monsieur ;  and  I  cannot  take  a  far- 
thing less." 

The  would-be  diner  goes  away ;  but  he  has  scarcely  gone 
a  few  steps,  when  the  dealer  calls  him  back.  "  Listen,  mon- 
sieur," he  cries. 

Hope  revives  in  the  other's  breast.  His  fancy  conjures 
up  a  savoury  rabbit-stew,  and  he  leaps  rather  than  walks  the 
distance  that  separates  him  from  the  stall. 

"  Ventre  affame  a  des  oreilles  pour  sur,"  says  a  bystander.* 

"  Well,  how  much  are  you  going  to  take  oil  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  going  to  take  off  a  penny,  but  I  thought  I 
might  tell  you  that  this  rabbit  plays  the  drum." 


*  The  proverb  is,  "  Ventre  affame  n'a  pas  d'oreilles." — Editor. 


THE  PRAISE  OF  GELATINE.  447 

Some  of  the  jokes,  thoiigli,  were  not  equally  innocent,  and 
revealed  a  callousness  on  the  part  of  the  perpetrators  which 
it  is  not  pleasant  to  have  to  record.  True,  they  did  not  affect 
the  very  poor,  whose  poverty  was,  as  it  were,  a  guarantee 
against  them ;  but  it  is  a  moot  point  whether  the  well-to-do 
should  be  shamelessly  robbed  by  the  well-to-do  tradesmen  for 
no  other  reason  than  to  increase  the  latter's  hoard.  Greed, 
that  abominable  feature  in  the  character  of  the  French  mid- 
dle-classes, showed  itself  again  and  again  under  circumstances 
which  ought  to  have  susjDended  its  manifestations  for  tlie  time 
being. 

I  have  already  noted  that  one  member  of  the  Academic 
des  Sciences  had  insisted  upon  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from 
the  extraction  of  gelatine  from  bones.  A  great  number  of 
equally  learned  men  simply  scouted  the  idea  as  preposterous, 
notably  Dr.  Gannal,  the  well-known  authority  on  embalm- 
ing. His  opposition  went  so  far  as  to  prompt  him  to  submit 
his  family  and  himself  to  the  "  ordeal,"  as  he  called  it.  At 
the  end  of  a  week,  all  of  them  were  reduced  to  mere  skele- 
tons ;  and  then,  but  then  only,  Dr.  Gannal  sent  for  his  learned 
colleagues  to  attest  the  effects.  The  drowning  man  will  pro- 
verbially cling  to  a  straw ;  consequently,  some  Parisians  took 
to  gelatine,  undeterred  by  the  clever  lampoons,  one  of  which 

I  quote : 

"  L'inventeur  de  la  gelatine, 
A  la  chair  preferant  les  os, 
Vent  desormais  que  chacun  dine 
Avec  un  jeu  of  dominos." 

Thev,  however,  did  so  with  their  eyes  open,  and  as  a  last  re- 
source :  not  so  those  who  were  imposed  upon,  and  induced 
to  part  with  their  money  for  cleverly  imitated  calves'  heads, 
which,  as  a  matter  of  course,  merely  left  a  gluish  substance 
at  the  bottom  of  the  saucepan,  to  the  indignation  of  anxious 
housewives  and  irate  cooks,  one  of  whom  took  her  revenge 
one  day  by  clapping  the  saucepan  and  its  contents  on  the 
head  of  the  fraudulent  dealer,  and,  while  the  latter  was  m  an 
utterly  defenceless  state,  triumphantly  stalking  away_  with 
two  very  respectable  fowls.  The  shopkeeper  had  the  impu- 
dence to  seek  redress  in  a  court  of  law.  The  judge  would 
not  so  much  as  listen  to  him. 

Another  curious  feature  of  the  siege  was  the  > sudden  pas- 
sion developed  by  cooks  for  what  I  must  be  permitted  to  call 
culinary  literature.     As  a  rule,  the  French  cordon-bleu,  and 


418  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

even  her  less  accomplished  sisters,  do  not  go  for  their  recipes 
to  cookery-books;  theirs  is  knowledge  gained  from  actual 
experience:  but  at  that  period  such  works  as,  "Le  Livre 
de  Cuisine  de  Mademoiselle  Marguerite,"  "La  guismiere 
Pratique,"  etc.,  were  to  be  found  on  every  kitchen  table. 
The  cooks  had  simply  taken  to  them  in  despair,  not  believing 
a  single  word  of  their  contents,  but  on  the  chance  of  finding 
a  hint  that  might  lend  itself  to  the  provisions  placed  at  their 
disposal.  I  refrain  from  giving  their  criticisms  on  the  au- 
thors :  the  forcibleness  of  their  language  could  only  be  done 
justice  to  by  such  masters  of  realism  as  M.  Zola.  I  have 
spoken  before  now  of  the  uniform  good  temper  of  the  Paris- 
ians under  the  most  trying  circumstances  ;  I  beg  to  append 
a  rider,  excluding  cooks,  but  especially  female  ones.  "  C'est 
comme  si  on  essayait  d'enseigner  le  patinage  a  la  femme  aux 
jambes  de  bois  du  boulevard,"  said  the  ministering  angel  to 
one  of  my  bachelor  friends.  One  day,  to  my  great  surprise, 
on  calling  on  him  I  found  him  reading.  He  was  not  much 
given  to  poring  over  books,  though  his  education  had  been  a 
very  good  one. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  am  reading  More's  '  Utopia,' "  he  said,  puting  down 
the  volume. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  remarked,  pointing  to  the  cover, 
displaying  a  young  woman  bending  over  stew-pans. 

"  This  is  More's  '  Utopia,'  to  me  at  present.  It  speaks  of 
things  which  will  never  be  realized;  supreme  de  volaille, 
tournedos  a  la  poivrade,  and  so  forth.  The  book  wants  an- 
other chapter,"  he  went  one,  "  a  chapter  treating  of  the  food 
of  besieged  cities.  The  Dutch  might  have  written  it  cent- 
uries ago  :  at  Leyden  they  were  on  the  point  of  eating  their 
left  arms,  while  defending  themselves  with  their  right ;  they 
could  have  told  us  how  to  stew  the  former.  If  one  could  add 
a  chapter  to  that  effect,  the  book  might  go  through  a  hun- 
dred new  editions,  and  the  writer  might  make  a  fortune.  It 
would  not  do  him  much  good,  for  he  would  be  expected  to 
live  up  to  his  precepts,  and  not  touch  a  morsel  of  that  beauti- 
ful kangaroo  or  elephant  I  saw  yesterday' on  the  Boulevard 
Haussmann." 

At  that  moment  a  mutual  acquaintance  came  in.  He  had 
been  a  lieutenant  in  the  Foreign  Legion,  and  lost  his  right 
foot  before  Constantine.  Noticing  our  host's  doleful  looks, 
he  inquired  the  cause,  and  we  got  another  spoken  essay  on 


A  CURIOUS  DINNER.  449 

the  difficulties  of  the  situation  as  connected  with  the  food 
supply.  I  may  add  that,  wherever  a  few  men  were  gathered 
together,  this  became  invariably  the  absorbing  topic  of  con- 
versation. 

The  ex-lieutenant  laughed  outright.  "  You  are  altogether 
labouring  under  a  mistake ;  there  is  plenty  of  food  of  a  kind 
left,  though  I  admit  with  you  that'  the  Parisian  does  not  know 
how  to  prepare  it." 

"  Will  you  teach  them  ?  "  was  the  query. 

"  I  will  not,  because  they  would  simply  sneer  at  me.  Feed- 
ing is  simply  a  matter  of  prejudice ;  and,  to  prove  it  to  you, 
I  will  give  you  a  breakfast  to-morrow  morning  which  you 
will  appreciate.  But  I  am  not  going  to  tell  you  of  what  it 
consists,  nor  will  I  do  so  until  two  days  after  the  entertain- 
ment." 

We  accepted  the  invitation,  though  I  must  confess  that  I 
was  not  eager  about  it.  Nevertheless,  next  day,  about  one, 
we  were  seated  at  the  hospitable  board  of  our  ex-lieutenant, 
who,  three  weeks  before,  had  dismissed  his  female  servant 
and  was  waited  upon  by  an  old  trooper,  with  one  arm. 
Though  perfectly  respectful,  Joseph  received  us  with  a  broad 
grin,  which,  as  the  repast  progressed,  was  contracted  into  a 
proud  smile.  He  had  evidently  co-operated  with  his  master 
in  the  concoction  of  the  dishes,  all  of  which,  I  am  bound  to 
say,  were  very  savoury.  In  fact,  I  was  like  that  new  tenant 
of  the  house  haunted  by  a  laughing  ghost.  But  for  the 
knowledge  that  there  was  something  uncanny  about  it,  I 
would  have  been  intensely  gratified  and  amused.  Our  host 
told  us,  with  great  glee,  that  Joseph  had  been  up  since  a 
quarter-past  four  that  morning ;  and  that  before  five  he  was 
at  the  Halles.  As  we  could  distinctly  taste  the  onions  in  the 
stew  that  served  as  an  entree,  and  as  the  potatoes  round  the 
next  dish  were  visible  to  the  naked  eye,  we  concluded  that 
the  old  trooper  had  got  up  so  early  to  buy  vegetables,  and 
were  correspondingly  grateful.  There  was  no  mystery  what- 
soever about  the  fish,  and  about  the  entremets.  The  first 
was  dry  cod — but  with  a  sauce  such  as  I  had  never  tasted  be- 
fore or  have  since.  The  latter  was  a  delicious  dish  of  sweet 
macaroni,  fit  to  set  before  a  prince.  I  repeat,  but  for  my 
knowledge  that  there  was  something  uncanny  about  that 
meal,  I  would  have  asked  permission  to  come  every  day.  Yet 
I  felt  almost  equally  convinced  that,  with  regard  to  one  dish, 
we  had  been  doubly  mystified— that  they  were  larks,  which 


450  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS, 

our  host  Iiad  managed  to  procure  somehow,  though  I  missed 
the  bones. 

True  to  his  word,  our  Amphitryon  revealed  the  real  in- 
gredients of  the  menu  forty-eight  hours  after.  The  entree 
had  been  composed  of  very  small  mice — field-mice,  I  think 
we  call  them  in  England  ;,  the  second  dish  was  rat.  Kot  a 
single  ounce  of  butter  or  lard  had  been  used  in  the  sauces  or 
for  the  macaroni.  The  dried  cod  was  still  plentiful  enough 
to  be  had  at  any  grocer's  or  salted  provision  shop.  Instead 
of  butter,  Joseph  used  horse-marrow.  The  horse-butchers 
sold  the  bones  ridiculously  cheap,  not  having  the  slightest 
idea  what  to  do  with  them.  The  mice,  Joseph  caught  round 
about  the  fortifications,  whither  he  went  almost  every  day. 
The  rats  he  caught  in  the  cellarage  of  the  Halles.  He  had  a 
cousin  there  in  a  large  way  of  business,  and  access  to  the  un- 
derground part  of  the  market  was  never  refused  to  him. 

"  From  what  you  have  tasted  at  my  rooms,"  concluded 
the  ex-lieutenant,  "  you  will  easily  see  that  our  vaunted  su- 
periority as  cooks  is  so  much  humbug.  The  dish  of  cod  I 
gave  you,  and  which  you  liked  so  much,  may  be  seen  on  the 
table  of  the  poorest  household  in  Holland  and  Flanders  at 
least  once,  sometimes  twice,  a  week,  especially  in  North-Bra- 
bant, where  the  good  Catholics  scarcely  ever  eat  anything  else 
on  Fridays.  The  sauce,  which  they  call  a  mustard-sauce, 
would  naturally  be  better  if  made  with  butter,  but  you  could 
not  taste  the  difference  if  the  cook  takes  care  to  sprinkle  a 
little  saffron  in  her  fat  or  marrow.  Saffron  is  a  great  thing 
in  cooking,  and  still  our  best  chefs  know  little  or  nothing 
about  it.  But  for  the  saffron,  you  would  have  detected  a 
slight  odour  of  musk  in  the  entree  you  took  to  be  larks.  You 
may  almost  disguise  anything  with  saffron,  except  dog's-flesh. 
Listen  to  what  I  tell  you,  and  in  a  month  or  so,  perhaps  be- 
fore, you'll  admit  the  truth  of  my  words.  The  moment 
horseflesh  fails,  the  Parisians  will  fall  back  upon  dogs,  turn- 
ing up  their  noses  at  cats  and  rats,  though  both  are  a  thou- 
sand times  superior  to  the  latter.  In  saying  this,  I  am  virtu- 
ally libelling  the  cat  and  the  rat ;  for  '  the  friend  of  man,'  be 
he  cooked  in  ever  so  grand  a  way,  is  always  a  detestable  dish. 
His  flesh  is  oily  and  flabby ;  stew  him,  fry  him,  do  what  you 
will,  there  is  always  a  flavour  of  castor  oil  about  him.  The 
only  way  to  minimize  that  flavour,  to  make  him  palatable,  is 
to  salt,  or  rather  to  pepper  him ;  that  is,  to  cut  him  up  in 
slices,  and  leave  them  for  a  fortnight,  bestrewing  them  very 


THE  POOR.  4.^1 

liberally  with  pepper-corns.  Then,  before  ' accommodating' 
them  finally,  put  them  into  boiling  water  for  a  while,  and 
throw  the  water  away. 

"Xo  such  compromises  are  necessary  with  'the  fauna  of 
the  tiles,'  who,  with  his  larger-sized  victim,  the»rat,  has  been 
the  most  misprized  and  misjudged  of  all  animals,  from  the 
culinary  point  of  view.  Stewed  puss  is  by  far  more  delicious 
than  stewed  rabbit.  The  flesh  of  the  former  tastes  less  pun- 
gent than  that  of  the  latter,  and  is  more  tender.  As  for  the 
prejudice  against  cat,  well,  the  Germans  have  the  same  pre- 
judice against  rabbit,  and  while  I  was  in  the  Foreign  Legion 
there  was  a  AYurtemberger,  a  lieutenant,  who  would  not 
touch  bunny,  but  who  would  devour  grimalkin.  Those  who 
have  not  tasted  couscoussou  of  cat,  prepared  according  to  the 
Arabian  recipe — though  the  Arabs  won't  touch  it — have 
never  tasted  anything."  * 

Our  friend  said  much  more,  notably  with  regard  to  rat 
and  horseflesh ;  and  then  he  wound  up :  "  But  what  is  the 
good  ?  Those  who  might  benefit  by  my  advice  are  not  here, 
and,  if  they  were,  they  would  probably  scorn  it ;  I  mean  the 
very  poor.  The  only  item  of  animal  food  which  cannot  be 
adequately  replaced  by  something  else  yielding  as  much  or 
nearly  as  much  nourishment  is  milk.  But,  unless  an  adult 
be  in  delicate  health  or  suffering  from  ailments  to  the  allevi- 
ation and  cure  of  which  milk  is  absolutely  necessary,  he  may 
very  well  go  without  it  for  six  months.  Not  so  children.  I 
am  only  showing  you  that  the  poor,  with  their  slender  re- 
sources— and  Heaven  knows  they  are  slender  enough — might 
do  better  than  they  are  doing,  for  cats  and  rats  must  still  be 
very  plentiful,  only  they  won't  touch  them." 

The  reference  to  the  very  poor  and  their  slender  resources 
recurred  more  than  once  that  evening,  but  I  knew  that  the 
authorities  were  trying  to  do  all  they  could  in  the  way  of 
relieving  general  and  individual  distress,  and  that  they  were 
admirably  seconded  by  private  charity,  which  not  only  placed 
comparatively  large  sums  at  their  disposal,  but  bestirred  itself 
by  means  of  specially  appointed  committees  and  visitors. 
The  rations  of  meat  (horsemeat)  and  bread  distributed  were 
not  sufficient.     The  first  had  already  fallen  to  forty-five 


*  The  Arab  Jcu.ghus  generally  consists  of  a  piece  of  mutton  baked  in  a  paste 
with  the  vegetables  of  the  season,  flavoured  with  herbs;  and  the  addition  of 
half  a  dozen  hard-boiled  eggs.    The  whole  of  the  flesh  is  boned. — Editor. 


452  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

grammes  per  day  per  head,  the  second  to  three  hundred  and 
lifty  grammes ;  *  they  were  to  fall  much  lower.  Tickets 
were  also  distributed  for  set  meals,  with  and  without  meat. 
There  was,  furthermore,  a  distribution  of  fuel,  albeit  that 
there  was  reaUy  no  more  fuel  to  distribute.  All  the  wooden 
seats  in  the  public  thoroughfares,  the  scaffoldings  before  the 
half-finished  buildings  had  disappeared.  At  one  of  my 
friend's  apartments  there  was  none  but  the  outer  door  left, 
all  the  others  had  been  replaced  by  curtains.  They  had  been 
chopped  up  to  keep  his  family  warm.  The  fear  of  the 
terrible  landlord  may  have  prevented  the  poor  from  imi- 
tating this  proceeding.  At  any  rate,  I  noticed  no  absent 
doors  in  my  visits  to  any  of  them.  A  further  supply  of  meat 
or  bread,  even  if  they  had  the  money,  was  out  of  the  question 
for  them ;  because,  though  some  shops  remained  open  and 
their  owners  were  compelled  to  sell  according  to  the  tariff  set 
forth  by  the  municipality,  they  had  nothing  to  sell.  I  re- 
member being  in  the  Eue  Lafayette  one  morning,  near  one  of 
those  shops,  when  I  saw  the  whole  of  the  crowd,  that  had 
been  waiting  there  for  hours  probably,  turn  away  disap- 
pointed. The  assistant  had  just  told  them  that  "  this  morn- 
ing we  have  nothing  to  sell  but  preserved  truffles." 

At  the  same  time,  I  am  bound  to  note  the  fact  that, 
at  the  slightest  rumours  of  peace,  the  usually  empty  win- 
dows became  filled  with  artistically  arranged  pyramids  of 
"canned"  provisions,  at  prices  considerably  below  those 
charged  twenty-four  hours  before,  and  even  below  those 
mentioned  in  the  municipal  tariff.  Frequent  attempts  were 
made  by  the  police  to  discover  the  hiding-places  for  this 
stock,  but  they  failed  in  every  instance.  Those  hiding-places 
were  far  away  from  the  shops,  and  the  shopkeepers  them- 
selves were  too  wary  to  be  caught  napping.  A  stranger 
might  have  safely  gone  in  and  offered  a  hundred  francs  for 
half  a  dozen  tins  of  their  wares.  They  would  have  looked 
a  perfect  blank,  and  told  him  they  had  none  to  sell:  and 
no  wonder ;  their  detection  would  have  meant  certain  death ; 
no  earthly  power  could  have  saved  them  from  the  legitimate 
fury  of  the  populace.  And  even  those  who  bought  the 
hidden  food  at  abnormal  prices  were  compelled  to  preserve 
silence,  at   the   risk  of  seeing  their  supplies  cut  off.     One 

*  Five  hundred  Freuch  grammes  make  seventeen  ounces  English,  and  a 
fraction. — Editob. 


A  SnOPKEEPER.  453 

thing  is  certain,  and  I  can  unhesitatingly  vouch  for  it.  My 
name  had  become  known  in  connection  with  several  com- 
mittees for  the  relief  of  the  poor.  On  the  25th  of  Janu- 
ary, at  11  a.m.,  when  the  negotiations  between  Bismarck 
and  M.  Jules  Favre  could  have  been  but  in  the  preliminary 
stage,  I  received  a  note,  brought  by  hand,  from  a  grocer  in 
the  Faubourg  Montmartre,  asking  me  to  call  personally,  as 
he  had  something  to  communicate  which  might  be  to  the 
advantage  of  my  proteges.  An  hour  later,  I  was  at  his 
establishment,  and  he  offered  to  sell  me  five  hundred  tins 
of  various  provisions  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  boxes  of 
sardines  at  two  francs  each.  It  was  something  like  double 
the  ordinary  price.  A  little  more  than  three  weeks  before 
that  date,  I  had  sent  a  letter  to  the  same  man,  asking  him 
for  a  similar  quantity  of  goods,  which  I  intended  to  dis- 
tribute as  Xew  Year's  gifts.  The  reply  was,  that  he  had 
none,  but  that  he  might  possibly  procure  them  at  the  rate  of 
five  francs  a  tin  and  box.  I  found  out  afterwards,  that  the 
excellent  grocer  had  a  son  at  the  Ministry  for  Foreign 
Affairs.     I  need  not  point  out  the  logical  deduction. 

I  am  equally  certain  that  there  were  large  quantities  of 
horseflesh,  salted  or  fresh,  hidden  somewhere ;  for,  as  I  have 
already  noted,  it  was  officially,  or  at  any  rate  semi-officially 
stated,  that,  on  the  day  of  the  conclusion  of  the  armistice, 
there  were  thirty  thousand  live  horses  in  Paris,  and  the 
greater  part  of  these  would  have  been  slaughtered  by  order 
of  the  Government,  if  the  measure  had  been  thought  expe- 
dient, for  there  is  scarcely  any  need  to  say  that  the  pretext 
of  their  being  wanted  for  military  purposes  would  not  hold 
water.  A  sixth  part  of  them,  or  less,  would  have  been  amply 
sufficient  for  that.  In  reality,  M.  Favre  and  his  colleagues 
were,  by  this  time,  fully  convinced  that  all  further  resistance 
was  useless,  but  they  had  not  the  courage  to  say  so  frankly, 
and  they  wished  to  convert  the  advocates  of  "  resistance  to 
death  "  to  their  side  by  aggravating  the  scarcity  of  the  food 
supplv,  as  if  it  were  not  bad  enough  already.  The  horses 
confiscated  by  the  Government  for  food  were  paid  for  by 
them  at  the  rate  of  between  one  and  two  francs  per  pound, 
yet  there  was  no  possibility  of  buying  a  single  pound  of 
horseflesh,  beyond  what  was  distributed  at  the  municipal 
canteens,  for  less  than  seven  or  eight  francs.  Whence  this 
difference? 

Batter  could  be  bought  for  thirty  to  thirty-five  francs  per 


454  AN   ENGLISHMAN  IN   PARIS. 

pound,  but  such  butter!  Anything  worth  eating  com- 
manded sixty  francs.  There  was  a  kind  of  grease  that 
fetched  two  francs  per  pound,  but  even  the  poorest  shrank 
from  it,  and  preferred  to  eat  dry  bread,  which  was  composed 
as  follows : — 

(Foe  a  Loaf  of  300  Grammes.) 

75  grammes  of  wheat. 

15  "  rye,  barley,  or  peas. 

60  "  rice. 

90  "  oats. 

30  "  chopped  straw  mixed  with  starch. 

30  "  bran. 

As  for  the  rest,  here  are  some  of  the  prices— at  which, 
however,  things  were  not  always  to  be  had : — 

frs. 

A  dog  or  a  cat 20 

A  rat,  crow,  or  sparrow 3  or  4 

1  lb.  of  bear's  flesh 13 

1  lb.  of  venison 14 

1  lb.  of  wolf's  flesh,  or  porcupine's        ....  8 

A  rabbit 40 

A  fowl 40 

A  pigeon         . 2o 

A  goose o" 

A  turkey 100 

1  lb.  of  ham  (very  rare) 10 

1  lb.  of  bacon  (not  so  rare) 6 

Eggs  (each) 5 

Haricot  beans  (per  litre) 8 

Cabbages  (each) 16 

Leeks  (each) 1 

Bushel  of  carrots  (2i  gallons) 75 

Bushel  of  potatoes 35 

Bushel  of  onions 80 

Still,  until  the  very  last,  there  occurred,  as  far  as  I  know, 
no  case  of  actual  starvation,  and  I  was  pretty  well  posted  up 
in  that  respect.  The  very  young  and  very  old  suffered  most : 
for  the  milk  that  was  sold  at  two  francs  per  litre  was  simply 
disgraceful,  three-fourths  of  it  was  water;  and  beef -tea,  or 
that  worthy  of  the  name,  was  not  to  be  had  at  any  price. 
Both  commodities  were  distributed  to  the  poor  at  the  mu- 
nicipal canteens,  on  the  certificate  of  a  doctor ;  btit  the  latter, 
though  by  no  means  hard-hearted,  and  thoroughly  sympa- 
thetic with  the  ills  he  was  scarcely  able  to  alleviate,  had  to 
draw  the  line  somewhere.     Of  bedding,  bed-linen,  and  warm 


THE  STATE  PAWNSHOP.  455 

underclothing  there  was  little  or  no  lack ;  but  the  cold,  for 
several  days,  at  frequent  intervals  was  severe  to  a  degree. 

Our  ex-lieutenant's  reference  to  the  poor  and  their  slender 
resources  recurred  frequently  to  my  mind  for  several  days 
after  the  scene  described  above,  and  set  me  wondering  how 
far  the  poor  had  parted,  finally  or  temporarily,  with  their 
household  gods  and  small  valuables  in  order  to  obtain  some 
of  the  quasi-luxuries  I  have  just  enumerated.  In  order  to 
get  at  the  truth  of  the  matter,  I  determined  to  pay  a  visit  to 
the  central  pawnbroking  office  in  the  Rue  des  Blancs  Man- 
teaux.  I  provided  myself  with  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
the  director,  who  placed  an  official  at  my  disposal.  This  was 
towards  the  latter  end  of  December. 

I  transcribe  my  informant's  statement  in  brief  and  from 
memory,  but  I  am  positive  as  to  main  facts.  Up  till  the  end 
of  August  the  transactions  at  the  central  office,  which  vir- 
tually include  those  of  the  whole  of  the  capital,  presented 
nothing  abnormal,  but  the  moment  the  investment  became 
an  almost  foregone  conclusion,  there  was  a  positive  run  on 
the  Mont-de-Piete.  The  applicants  for  loans,  however,  were 
by  no  means  of  the  poorest  or  even  of  the  lower-middle  class, 
but  the  well-to-do  people,  whose  chief  aim  was  to  place  their 
valuables  in  safety,  and  who  looked  upon  the  9|  per  cent, 
interest  they  had  to  pay  on  the  advances  received  as  a  pre- 
mium for  warehousing  and  insurance.  They  knew  that 
nothing  could  be  more  secure  than  the  fire  and  burglar  proof 
receptacles  of  the  Mont-de-Piete,  and  that,  come  what  might, 
the  State  would  be  responsible  for  the  value  of  the  articles 
deposited. 

This  run  ceased  when  the  investment  was  an  accomplished 
fact,  but,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  financial  resources  had 
been  put  to  a  severe  test,  and,  at  the  time  my  informant 
spoke  to  me,  they  had  dwindled  from  nearly  eight  millions 
of  francs,  at  which  they  were  computed  in  the  beginning  of 
August,  to  about  three-quarters  of  a  million.  The  order  of 
the  mayor  of  Paris,  intended  to  prevent  this,  had  come  too 
late.  The  decree  of  1863,  limiting  the  maximum  of  a  loan 
to  ten  thousand  francs  at  the  chief  office,  and  to  five  hundred 
francs  at  any  of  the  auxiliary  ones,  had  been  suspended  in 
favour  of  a  decision  that,  during  the  investment,  no  loan 
should  exceed  fifty  francs.*    From  the  19th  of  September  to 

*  A  similar  measure  had  been  decided  upon  in  1814,  under  analogous  circum- 
Btances,  but  the  maximum  was  tweuty  francs  instead  of  fifty  francs.— Euitok. 


456  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

the  end  of  October,  the  cessation  from  all  labour,  and,  conse- 
quently, the  non-receipt  of  wages  throughout  the  capital,  had 
to  be  faced  in  the  acceptance  of  thousands  of  pledges,  con- 
sisting of  household  goods,  apparel,  etc. ;  but,  curiously 
enough,  workmen's  tools  and  implements  formed  but  a  small 
proportion  of  these.  At  present,  the  whole  of  the  business 
was  at  a  standstill ;  there  was  no  redemption  of  pledges,  and 
few  were  offered.* 

Meanwhile,  Christmas  and  the  Kew  Year  were  at  hand, 
and  not  a  single  sortie  had  led  to  any  practical  modifica- 
tion of  the  situation.  The  cold  was  intense.  Coal  and 
coke  could  be  obtained  for  neither  money  nor  love.  The 
street  lamps  had  not  been  lighted  for  nearly  a  month ;  up 
till  the  end  of  October,  one  had  been  lighted  here  and  there ; 
then  there  had  been  an  attempt  to  supply  the  absence  of  gas 
by  paraffin  in  the  public  thoroughfares,  but  the  stock  of 
mineral  oil  was  also  getting  lower.  Most  of  the  shops  were 
closed,  but,  at  the  advent  of  the  festive  season,  a  few  took 
down  their  shutters  and  made  a  feeble  display  of  bonbons  in 
sugar  and  chocolate,  and  even  of  marrons  glaces.  I  doubt 
whether  these  articles  found  many  purchasers.  The  toy- 
shops never  took  the  trouble  of  exhibiting  at  all.  They  were 
wise  in  their  abstention,  for  even  the  most  ignorant  Parisian 
was  aware  that  nine-tenths  of  the  wares  in  these  establish- 
ments hailed  from  Germany,  and  he  would  assuredly  have 
smashed  the  windows  if  they  had  been  offered  for  sale.  Nay, 
the  booths  that  make  their  appearance  on  the  Boulevards  at 
that  time  of  the  year  displayed  few  toys,  except  of  a  military 
kind.  It  was  very  touching,  in  after  years,  to  hear  the  lads 
and  lassies  refer  to  the  1st  of  January,  1871,  as  the  New 
Yearns  Day  without  the  New  Year's  gifts. 

Nevertheless,  it  must  not  be  thought  that  Paris  was  given 
over  to  melancholy  on  these  two  days.  Crowds  perambulated 
the  streets  and  sat  in  the  cafes.  In  spite  of  all  that  has  been 
said  by  ultra-patriotic  writers,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 

*  A  curious  feature  in  connection  with  the  pledging  of  tools  and  implements 
may  be  recorded  here.  At  the  termination  of  the  siege,  a  committee  in  London 
transmitted  20,000  francs  (£800)  for  the  express  purpose  of  redeeming  these. 
Tlie  Paris  committee  entrusted  with  the  task,  while  grateful  for  the  solicitude 
bliown,  rightly  considered  that  it  would  not  po  very  far,  considering  that,  at 
the  time,  the  Mont-de-Piete  held  a  total  of  1,708,549  articles,  representing  loans 
to  the  amount  of  37,502,743  francs.  The  authorities  took  particular  pains  to 
publish  the  receipt  of  the  20,000  francs,  and  the  purposes  thereof.  Within  a 
given  time,  they  returned  6,430  francs  to  the  committee  Only  2,383  tools  (or 
sets  of  tools)  had  been  redeemed,  representing  a  lent  value  of  13,570  francs. 


NEW  YEAR'S  DAY. 


457 


the  Parisians  no  longer  cherished  any  illusions  about  the 
possibility  of  retrieving  their  disasters,  though  many  may 
have  thought  that  the  besiegers  would  abstain,  at  the  last 
moment,  from  shelling  the  city.  The  Government— whether 
with  the  intention  of  cheering  the  besieged  or  for  the  pur- 
pose of  exhausting  their  stock  of  provisions  as  quickly  as 
possible,  in  order  to  capitulate  with  better  grace — had  made 
the  city  a  magnificent  New  Year's  gift  of 

104,000  kilogrammes  of  preserved  beef, 
52,000  "  "  dried  haricot  beans- 

52,000  "  "  olive  oil, 

52,000  "  "  coffee  (not  roasted), 

52,000  "  «  chocolate; 

which  gift  elicited  the  reply  of  a  group  of  artists  and  littera- 
teurs that,  though  thankful  for  their  more  epicurean  brethren 
and  sisters,  they,  the  litterateurs  and  artists,  had  fared  very 
well  on  Christmas  Day  and  would  meet  again  on  New  Year's 
Day  to  discuss  the  following  menu : — 

"  Consomme  de  Cheval  au  millet. 

Brochettes  de  Foie  de  Chien  a  la  Maitre  d'Hotel. 

Eraince  de  Rable  de  Chat,  Sauce  Mayonnaise. 

Epaules  et  Filets  de  Chien  braises  a  la  Sauce  Tomate. 

Civet  de  Chat  aux  Champignons. 

Cotelettes  de  Chien  aux  Champignons. 

Gigots  de  Chien  flanques  de  Ratons. 

Sauce  Poivrade. 

Begonias  au  Jus. 

Plum-pudding  au  Rhum  et  a  la  Moelle  de  Cheval." 

Simultaneously  with  the  publication  of  the  menu,  a  dealer 
in  the  St.  Germain  Market  put  up  a  new  signboard  : — 

"RESISTANCE  A  OUTRANGE. 
"  Grande  Boucherie  Canine  et  Feline. 

"  L'heroTque  Paris  brave  les  Prussiens ; 
II  ne  sera  jamais  vaincu  par  la  famine ! 
Quand  il  aura  mange  la  race  chevaline 
II  mangera  ses  rats,  et  ses  chats,  et  ses  chiens." 

The  proprietor  of  a  cookshop  in  the  Rue  de  Rome  had 
confined  himself  to  prose,  but  prose  which,  to  those  who 
could  read  it  aright,  was  much  cleverer  than  the  poetry  of 
his  transpontine  fellow-tradesman. 

20 


458  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

"VIN  1  DIX-HUIT  SOUS 

ET  EAU-DESSUS, 

RossE  Beef. 

Rat  Gout  de  Mouton."* 

Personally,  I  have  eaten  the  flesh  of  elephants,  wolves, 
cassowaries,  porcupines,  bears,  kangaroos,  rats,  cats,  and 
horses.  I  did  not  touch  dog's-flesh  knowingly  after  I  had 
been  warned  by  our  ex-lieutenant.  The  proprietor  of  the 
English  butcher-shop,  M.  Debos,  who  was  not  an  Englishman 
at  all,  supplied  most  of  these  strange  dishes  ;  for  he  bought 
nearly  all  the  animals  from  the  Zoological  Gardens  at  tremen- 
dous prices.  These  were  only  the  animals  from  the  Jardin 
d'Acclimation  in  the  Bois,  which  had  been  sent  as  guests  to 
the  Jardin  des  Plantes.  The  elephants  belonged  to  the  latter 
establishment,  and  were  sold  to  M.  Debos  for  twenty-seven 
thousand  francs.  In  January  I  was  elected  a  member  of  the 
Jockey  Club,  but  I  had  dined  there  once  before  by  special  in- 
vitation.   I  give  the  menu  as  far  as  I  remember : — 

"  Soupe  au  Poireau. 

Aloyau  de  Bceuf. 

Poule  au  Riz. 

Flageolets  aux  Jus. 

Biscuits  de  Reims  glaces. 

Charlotte  aux  Pommes." 

In  spite  of  the  hope  that  Paris  would  escape  being  shelled, 
minute  instructions  how  to  act,  in  the  event  of  such  a 
calamity,  had  been  posted  on  the  walls.  In  fact,  if  speechi- 
fying and  the  promulgation  of  decrees  could  have  saved  the 

*  Here  are  the  two  English  readings,  as  far  as  I  am  able  to  give  them : — 

"WINE  AT  EIGHTEEN  SOUS  THE  LITKE 
AND  UPWARDS. 

EoAST  Beef. 
Eagoct  of  Mutton." 

"WINE  AT  EIGHTEEN   SOUS  THE  LITEE 
AND  WATER  ATOP. 

Old  Crock's  Flesh.    . 
Eat  tasting  of  Mutton." — Editoe. 


THE  FIRST  SHELLS.  459 

city,  Trochu  first,  and  the  rest  afterwards,  would  have  so 
saved  it.  But  I  have  solemnly  promised  myself  at  the  outset 
of  these  notes  not  to  be  betrayed  into  any  criticism  of  the 
military  operations,  and  I  will  endeavour  to' keep  my  promise 
to  myself. 

The  first  and  foremost  result  of  those  directions  on  the 
part  of  the  Government  was  a  display  of  water-butts,  filled  to 
the  brim,  in  the  passage,  and  of  sand-heaps  in  the  yard  of 
every  building.  As  the  months  went  by,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  a  bombardment,  the  contents  of  the  casks  became  so 
much  solid  ice,  and  the  sand-heaps  disappeared  beneath  the 
accumulated  snow,  to  be  converted  into  slush  and  mire  at  the 
first  thaw,  which  gave  us,  at  the  same  time,  a  kind  of  minia- 
ture deluge,  because,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  barrels  had 
sprung  leaks  which  were  not  attended  to  at  the  time. 

And  when,  early  on  the  5th  of  January,  the  first  projectiles 
crashed  down  upon  some  houses  in  the  south  of  Paris,  the 
people  were  simply  astonished,  but  still  deluded  themselves 
into  the  belief  that  it  was  a  mistake,  that  the  "  trajectory  " 
had  been  miscalculated,  and  the  shells  had  carried  farther 
than  was  intended.  To  a  certain  extent  they  had  good 
grounds  for  their  supposition.  They  had  heard  the  big 
cannon  boom  and  roar  at  frequent  intervals  ever  since  the 
morning  of  the  27th  of  December,  and  been  given  to 
understand  that  it  was  merely  a  big  artillery  duel  for  the 
possession  of  the  plateau  d'Avron,  betAveen  the  positions  of 
Noisy-le- Grand  and  Gournay  on  the  enemy's  side,  and  the 
forts  of  Nogent,  Eosny,  and  Noisy  on  that  of  the  French. 
They  were,  furthermore,  under  the  impression  that  the  shell- 
ing of  the  city  would  be  preceded  by  a  final  summons  to  sur- 
render :  they  had  got  that  notion  mostly  from  their  military 
dramas  and  popular  histories.  But  there  were  men,  better 
informed  than  the  majority  of  the  masses,  who  made  sure 
that,  if  not  the  Parisians  themselves,  the  foreign  consuls  and 
the  aliens  under  their  charge  would  receive  a  suflaciently 
timely  notice,  in  order  to  leave  the  city  if  they  felt  so 
minded. 

The  5th  of  January  was  a  bitterly  cold  day;  it  had  been 
freezing  hard  during  the  whole  of  the  night,  and,  as  I  wended 
my  way  across  the  Seine,  about  noon,  the  mist,  which  had 
been  hanging  over  the  river,  was  slowly  rising  in  banked  and 
jagged  masses,  with  only  a  rift  here  and  there  for  the  piti- 
lessly glacial  sun  to  peer  through  and  mock  at  our  shivering 


460  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

condition.  When  I  got  to  the  Boulevard  Montpamasse,  I 
met  several  stretchers,  bearing  sentries  who  had  been  abso- 
lutely frozen  to  within  an  ace  of  death. 

I  know  nothing  of  the  military  import  of  a  bombardment, 
but  have  been  told  that  even  the  greatest  strategists  only 
count  upon  the  moral  effect  it  produces  upon  the  besieged 
inhabitants.  I  can  only  say  this:  if  Marshal  von  Moltke 
took  the  "  moral  effect "  of  his  projectiles  into  his  calcula- 
tions to  accelerate  the  surrender  of  Paris,  he  might  have  gone 
on  shelling  Paris  for  a  twelvemonth  without  being  one  whit 
nearer  his  aim ;  that  is,  if  I  am  to  judge  by  the  scene  I  wit- 
nessed on  that  January  morning,  before  familiarity  with  the 
destruction-dealing  shells  could  have  produced  the  proverbial 
contempt.  At  the  risk  of  offending  all  the  sensation-mongers, 
foreign  and  native,  with  pen  or  with  pencil,  I  can  honestly  say 
that  a  broken-down  omnibus  and  a  couple  of  prostrate  horses 
would  have  excited  as  much  curiosity  as  did  the  sight  of  the 
battered  tenements  at  Vaugirard,  Montrouge,  and  Vanves. 
On  the  Chaussee  du  Maine,  the  roadway  had  been  ploughed 
up  for  a  distance  of  about  half  a  dozen  yards  by  a  shell ;  in 
another  spot,  a  shell  had  gone  clean  through  the  roof  and 
killed  a  women  by  the  side  of  her  husband ;  in  a  third,  a 
shell  had  carried  away  part  of  the  wall  of  a  one-storied 
cottage,  and  the  whole  of  the  opposite  wall :  in  short,  there 
was  more  than  sufficient  evidence  that  life  was  no  longer  safe 
within  the  fortifications,  and  yet  there  was  no  wailing,  no 
wringing  of  hands,  no  heartrending  frenzied  look  of  despair, 
either  pent  up  or  endeavouring  to  find  vent  in  shrieks  and 
yells,  nay,  not  even  on  the  part  of  the  women.  There  was 
merely  a  kind  of  undemonstrative  contempt — very  unlike  the 
usual  French  way  of  manifesting  it — blended  with  a  con- 
siderable dash  of  badauderie, — for  which  word  I  cannot  find 
an  English  equivalent,  because  the  Parisian  loafer  or  idler  is 
unlike  any  of  his  European  congeners.  To  grasp  the  differ- 
ence between  the  former  and  the  latter,  one  must  have  had 
the  good  fortune  to  see  the  same  incident  in  the  streets  of 
Paris,  London,  Madrid,  Florence,  and  Rome,  Vienna,  Berlin, 
and  St.  Petersburg,  not  to  mention  Brussels,  the  Hague, 
Amsterdam,  Munich,  and  Dresden.  The  "  Monsieur  Prud- 
homme"  of  Charles  Monnier  shows  but  one  facet  of  the 
Paris  badaud's  character.  The  nearest  approach  to  him  is 
the  middle-class  English  tourist  on  the  Continent,  who  en- 
deavours to  explain  to  his  wife  and  companions  things  he 


NO  MORE  BREAD.  461 

does  not  know  himself,  and  blesses  his  stars  aloud  for  having 
made  him  an  Englishman. 

But  even  the  Paris  badaud,  who  is  not  unlike  his  Roman 
predecessor  in  his  craving  for  circuses,  must  have  bread  ;  and 
when  the  cry  arises,  a  fortnight  later,  that  "  there  is  no  more 
bread,"  the  siege  is  virtually  at  an  end. 


462  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Some  men  of  the  Commune — Cluseret — His  opinion  of  Kossel — His  opinion  of 
Bergeret — What  Cluseret  was  fighting  for — Thiers  and  Abraham  Lincoln 
— Eaoul  Eigault  on  horseback — ^Theophile  Ferre — Ferre  and  Gil-Peres,  the 
actor — The  comic  men  of  the  Commune — Gambon — Jourde,  one  of  the 
most  valuable  of  the  lot — His  financial  abilities— His  endeavours  to  save — 
Jourde  at  Godillot's — Colonel  Maxime  Lisbonne — The  Editors  recollections 
of  him — General  Dombrowski  and  General  la  Cecilia — A  soiree  at  the 
Tuileries — A  gala-performance  at  the  Op^ra  Comique — The  death-knell  of 
the  Commune. 

I  HAVE  before  now  spoken  of  a  young  medical  student  in 
whose  company  I  spent  several  evenings  at  a  cafe  on  the 
Boulevard  St.  Michel,  during  the  Empire.  He,  like  myself, 
remained  in  Paris  during  the  siege,  and  refused  to  stir  at  the 
advent  of  the  Commune.  As  a  matter  of  course,  whenever 
Ave  met,  while  the  latter  lasted,  we  rarely  spoke  of  anything 
else.  He  sympathized,  to  a  certain  extent,  with  the  principle, 
though  not  with  the  would-be  expounders  of  it.  I  knew  few, 
if  any,  of  the  leaders  even  by  sight,  though  I  had  heard  of 
some,  such  as,  for  instance,  Jules  Valles,  in  connection  with 
their  literary  work.  My  admiration  was  strictly  confined  to 
those  performances,  and  I  often  said  so  to  my  friend.  "  You 
are  mistaken  in  your  estimate  of  them,"  he  invariably  replied. 
"  There  are  men  of  undoubted  talent  among  them,  for  in- 
stance, Cluseret ;  but  most  of  them  are  like  square  pegs  in 
round  holes.  Come  with  me  to-night,  and  you  will  be  able 
to  judge  for  yourself ;  for  he  is  sure  to  be  at  the  Brasserie 
Saint-Severin." 

I  had  never  been  to  the  Brasserie  Saint-Severin,  though  I 
had  paid  two  or  three  visits  several  years  before  to  the  cafe  de 
la  Eenaissance  opposite  the  Fontaine  Saint-Michel,  at  which 
establishment  the  Commune  may  be  said  to  have  been 
hatched.  It  was  there  that,  in  1866,  Eaoul  Eigault,  Longuet, 
the  brothers  Le\Taud,  Dacosta,  Genton,  Protot,  and  a  dozen 
more  were  arrested  by  the  Commissary  of  Police,  M.  Cle- 
ment. 


CLUSERET. 


463 


That  night,  about  eight  o'clock,  we  crossed  the  Pont 
Saint-Michel,  and,  in  a  minute  or  so,  found  ourselves  amidst 
some  of  the  shining  lights  of  the  Commune. 

Save  on  review  days  I  had  never  seen  so  many  brilliant 
uniforms  gathered  together.  As  far  as  I  can  recollect,  there 
was  only  one  civilian  in  the  group  pointed  out  to  me.  He 
looked  a  mere  skeleton,  was  misshapen,  and  one  of  the 
ugliest  men  I  have  ever  met.  I  asked  his  name,  and  was 
told  it  was  Tridon.  The  name  was  perfectly  familiar  to  me 
as  belonging  to  one  of  the  most  remarkable  polemists  during 
the  late  regime.     A  little  while  afterwards,  Cluseret  came  in. 

My  friend  introduced  me,  and  we  sat  talking  for  more 
than  two  hours  ;  and  I  have  rarely  been  more  interested  than 
I  was  that  night.  Cluseret  spoke  English  very  well,  for  he 
had  been  in  America  several  years,  and  our  conversation  was 
carried  on  in  that  language.  I  have  already  remarked  that  I 
had  no  intention,  at  that  time,  to  jot  down  my  recollections, 
still  I  was  so  impressed  with  what  I  had  heard  that  I  made 
some  rough  memoranda  when  I  got  home.  They  are  among 
the  papers  I  have  preserved. 

Cluseret  fostered  no  illusions  as  to  the  final  upshot  of  the 
Commune.  "  If  every  man  were  as  devoted  to  the  cause  as 
Kossuth  and  Garibaldi  were  to  theirs,  we  should  not  be  able 
to  establish  a  permanent  Commune ;  but  this  is  by  no  means 
the  case.  Most  of  the  leaders,  even  those  who  are  not  self- 
seekers,  are  too  visionary  in  their  aims ;  they  will  not  abate 
one  jot  of  their  ideal.  The  others  think  of  nothing  but  their 
own  aggrandisement,  and  though  many  are  no  doubt  capable 
to  a  degree,  they  are  absolutely  useless  for  the  posts  they  have 
chosen  for  themselves.  There  are  certainly  exceptions ;  such 
as,  for  instance,  Rossel.  His  technical  knowledge  is  very 
considerable.  If  I  had  to  describe  him  in  two  words,  I 
should  call  him  Lothario-Cromwell.  For,  notwithstanding 
his  military  aptitudes  and  his  Puritan  stiffness  in  many 
things,  he  has  too  many  petticoats  about  him.  In  addition 
to  this,  he  is  overbearing  and  absolutely  eaten  up  with  ambi- 
tion; he  is  a  republican  who  despises  the  proletariat;  ho 
would  fain  imitate  the  axiom  of  Napoleon  I.,  '  The  tools  to 
those  who  can  use  them ; '  but  he  forgets  that  it  will  not  do 
for  a  socialistic  regime  such  as  we  would  establish,  because  it 
is  exactly  those  that  cannot  use  the  tools  who  wish  to  be 
treated  as  if  they  could.  If  they  had  intelligence  enough  to 
use  the  tools,  they  would  have  lifted  themselves  out  of  their 


464  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

humble,  unsatisfactory  positions  without  any  aid.  Eossel  is 
no  doubt  a  better  strategist  than  I  am,  and  I  do  not  in  the 
least  mind  his  letting  me  know  it,  but  if  Dombrowski  or 
Bergeret  was  '  Delegate  for  War,'  Eossel  would  have  been  in 
prison  or  shot  a  fortnight  ago.'' 

"  For,"  continued  Cluseret,  "  Bergeret  especially  thinks 
himself  a  heaven-born  general.  He  shows  well  on  horseback, 
because,  I  believe,  he  began  life  as  a  stable-lad  :  so  did  Michel 
Ney;  but  then,  Michel  Ney  served  his  apprenticeship  at 
fighting,  while  Bergeret  became  a  compositor,  a  chef-de- 
claque,  a  proof-reader,  and,  finally,  a  traveller  for  a  publishing 
firm.  All  these  are,  no  doubt,  very  honourable  occupations, 
but  they  are  scarcely  calculated  to  make  a  good  general. 
Still,  you  should  see  him :  he  wears  his  sash  as  your  officers 
wear  theirs  when  on  duty ;  he  would  like  the  people  to  mis- 
take it  for  the  grand-cordon  of  the  Legion  d'Honneur ;  and 
his  staff  is  more  numerous  than  that  of  the  late  Empejor. 
You  should  go  and  dine  at  the  head-quarters  of  the  military 
governor  of  Paris ;  I  am  sure  you  would  be  very  welcome. 
Marast  at  the  Palais-Bourbon  in  '48  was  nothiug  to  it.  If 
the  Commune  lasts  another  three  months  there  will  be  serv- 
ants in  livery,  gold  lace,  and  powder,  like  in  your  country. 
At  present,  Bergeret  has  to  put  up  with  attendants  in  fault- 
less black. 

"  Personally,"  he  went  on,  "  I  am  not  fighting  for  Com- 
munism, but  for  Communalism,  which,  I  need  not  tell  you,  is 
quite  a  different  thing.  I  fail  to  see  why  Paris  and  Lyons 
should  be  judged  incapable  of  managing  their  own  municipal 
affairs  without  the  interference  of  the  State,  while  other  great 
provincial  centres  are  considered  capable  of  doing  so.  The 
English  Government  does  not  interfere  with  the  municipal 
affairs  of  London  on  the  plea  that  it  is  the  capital,  with  those 
of  Manchester  on  the  plea  that  it  has  inaugurated  a  policy  of 
its  own,  any  more  than  it  interferes  with  those  of  Liverpool, 
Leeds,  or  Bristol.  Your  lord-lieutenants  of  counties  are  vir- 
tually decorative  officials,  something  different  from  our  pre- 
fects and  our  sub-prefects,  and  your  Home  Secretary  has  not 
a  hundredth  part  of  the  power  of  our  Minister  of  the  Inte- 
rior. We  wish  to  go  a  step  further  than  you,  without,  how- 
ever, shirking  the  financial  obligations  imposed  by  a  federa- 
tion. What  you  would  call  imperial  taxes,  we  are  willing  to 
pay  in  kind  as  well  as  money.  This  is  one  of  the  things  we 
do  want:  what  we  do  not  want  is  the  resuscitation  of  the 


BELLIGERENTS,  NOT  INSURGENTS.  465 

Empire.  I  am  not  speaking  at  random  when  I  tell  you  that 
there  are  rumours  about  traitors  in  our  camp,  and  that,  ac- 
cording to  these  rumours,  the  struggle  against  the  Versaillese 
troops  would  be  a  mere  pretext  to  sweep  the  deck  for  the  un- 
opposed entry  of  an  imperial  army  into  Paris.  Whence  would 
that  army  be  recruited  ?  From  among  the  prisoners  going  to 
leave  Germany,  who  have  been  worked  all  the  while  in  the 
interest  of  the  Napoleonic  dynasty.  After  all,  we  have  as 
much  right  to  overthrow  the  Government  of  Versailles  as  the 
Government  of  Versailles  had  the  right  to  upset  the  Empire. 
Their  powers  are  by  no  means  more  valid  by  virtue  of  the 
recent  elections,  than  was  the  power  of  Louis- Napoleon  by 
virtue  of  the  plebiscite  of  1870.  Does  M.  Thiers  really  think 
that  he  is  a  better  or  greater  man  than  Abraham  Lincoln, 
who  treated  the  Southerns  as  belligerents,  not  as  insurgents  ?  " 

So  far  Cluseret.  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  that  he  was  a 
Btrictly  honourable  man,  but  he  was  a  very  intelligent  one, 
probably  the  most  intelligent  among  the  leaders  of  the  Com- 
mune. At  any  rate,  his  conversation  made  me  anxious  to  get 
a  nearer  sight  of  some  of  the  latter,  and,  as  they  had  evident- 
ly made  the  Brasserie  Saint-Severin  their  principal  resort  of 
an  evening,  I  returned  thither  several  times. 

A  few  nights  afterwards,  I  was  just  in  time  to  witness  the 
arrival  of  Kaoul  Rigault,  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  a 
staff  running  by  the  side  of  his  animal.  The  whole  reminded 
me  irresistibly  of  Decamp's  picture,  "  La  Patrouille  Turque." 
The  Prefect  of  Police  was  scarcely  less  magnificently  attired 
than  the  rest  of  his  fellow-dignitaries.  His  uniform,  if  I  re- 
member rightly,  was  blue  with  red  facings,  but  it  is  impossible 
to  say,  because  it  was  covered  everywhere  with  gold  lace. 
His  myrmidons  hustled  the  crowd  in  order  to  make  room  for 
their  chief,  and  some  one  laughed :  "  Mais  il  n'y  a  nen  de 
change;  c'est  absolument  comme  sous  I'Empire.  }^^  ^ 
moment  Rigault  sat  quite  still,  surveying  the  crowd  and 
oding  the  women  through  his  double  eye-glasses,  i hen  he 
alighted,  and  caught  sight  of  my  friend  and  myself  stand mg 
on  the  threshold.  "  Quels  sont  ces  citoyens?  '  he  inquired, 
taking  us  in  from  top  to  toe,  and  stroking  his  long  beard  all 
the  while.  Some  one  told  him  our  names,  at  which  he  made 
a  wrv  face,  the  more  that  mine  must  have  been  familiar  to 
him,  seeing  that  a  very  near  relative  of  mine  bearing  the 
same,  had  been  a  special  favourite  with  General  Vinoy.  He 
did  not  think  fit  to  molest  us ;  had  he  done  so,  it  might  have 


46G  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

fared  badly  with  ns,  for  by  the  time  Lord  Lyons  could  have 
interfered,  we  might  have  been  shot. 

Ever  since,  my  friend  and  I  have  been  under  the  impres- 
sion that  we  owed  our  lives  to  a  dark,  ugly  little  man  who,  at 
that  moment,  whispered  something  to  him,  and  who,  my 
friend  told  me,  immediately  afterwards,  was  the  right  hand 
of  Eaoul  Kigault,  Theophile  Ferre.  That  name  was  also 
familiar  to  me,  as  it  was  to  most  Parisians,  previous  to  the 
outbreak  of  the  war,  because  Ferre  was  implicated  in  the  plot 
against  Louis-Napoleon's  life,  and  was  tried  in  the  early  part 
of  '70  at  Blois.  Every  one  knew  how  he  insulted  the  Presi- 
dent, how  he  refused  to  answer,  and  finally  exclaimed,  "  Yes, 
I  am  an  anarchist,  a  socialist,  an  atheist,  and  woe  to  you 
when  our  turn  comes."  He  kept  his  word ;  he  was  a  fiend, 
and  looked  one.  Whenever  there  was  anything  cruel  and 
bloodthirsty  going  on,  he  made  it  a  point  to  be  present.  He 
was,  though  ugly,  not  half  so  ugly  as  Tridon,  but  one  invol- 
untarily recoiled  from  him. 

Curiously  enough,  this  very  Theophile  Ferre,  whom  I 
then  saw  for  the  first  time,  had  been  the  subject  of  a  conversa- 
tion I  had  with  Gil-Perds,  the  actor  of  the  Palais-Royal,  on 
the  25th  or  26th  of  March.  I  had  known  Gil-Peres  from 
the  moment  he  made  his  mark  in  "  La  Dame  aux  Camelias  " 
as  Gaudens.  To  my  great  surprise,  a  day  or  two  after  the 
proclamation  of  the  Commune,  I  heard  that  he  had  been 
cruelly  maltreated  in  the  Rue  Drouot,  that  he  had  narrowly 
escaped  being  killed.  Two  days  later,  I  paid  him  a  visit  in 
his  lodgings  at  Montmartre ;  for  he  had  been  severely,  though 
not  dangerously  hurt,  and  Avas  unable  to  leave  his  bed. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  your  mishap,"  I  said ;  "  but  what,  in 
Heaven's  name,  induced  you  to  meddle  with  politics  ?  " 

He  burst  out  laughing,  in  that  peculiar  laugh  of  his  which 
I  have  never  heard  before  or  since,  on  or  off  the  stage.  The 
nearest  approach  to  it  was  that  of  Grassot,  but  the  latter's 
was  like  a  discharge  of  artillery,  while  Gil-Peres  was  like 
that  of  a  musketry  volley. 

"  I  did  not  meddle  with  politics,"  he  replied ;  "  but  you 
know  how  fond  I  am  of  going  among  crowds  to  study  char- 
acter. This  day  last  week,  I  was  passing  along  the  Rue 
Drouot,  when  I  saw  a  large  group  in  front  of  the  Mairie.  I 
had  left  home  early  in  the  morning,  I  knew  nothing  of  what 
was  going  on  in  my  neighbourhood,  so  you  may  imagine  my 
surprise  when  I  heard  them  calmly  discussing  the  death  of 


THfiOPHILE  PERRfe.  ^q>j 

Clement  Thomas  and  Lecomte.  My  hair  stood  positively  on 
end,  and  I  must  have  pushed  a  bit  in  order  to  get  nearer  the 
speakers.  I  had  a  long  black  coat  on,  and  they  mistook  me 
for  a  euro.  I  did  all  I  could  to  tell  them  my  name,  but,  be- 
fore I  could  utter  a  word,  I  was  down,  and  they  began  tramp- 
ling on  me.  Some  one,  God  alone  knows  who,  saved  me,  by 
telling  them  my  name.  I  knew  nothing  more,  for  I  was 
brought  home  unconscious.  And  to  think,"  he  added,  "  that 
I  might  have  been  a  member  of  the  Commune  myself,  if  I 
had  liked." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  said,  for  I  began  to  think  that 
he  was  out  of  his  mind. 

"  Well,  you  know  that  during  the  siege  I  tried  to  do  my 
duty  as  a*  National  Guard,  and  in  my  battalion  was  this 
Theophile  Ferre  of  whom  you  have  already  heard.  A  most 
intelligent  creature,  but  poor  as  Job  and  ferocious  to  a  de- 
gree. He  was  a  study  to  me,  and,  of  late,  he  frequently  came 
to  see  me  in  the  morning.  I  generally  asked  him  to  stay  to 
breakfast,  for  I  liked  to  hear  him  talk  of  the  future  Com- 
mune, though  I  had  not  the  slightest  faith  in  his  visions.  I 
considered  him  a  downright  lunatic.  About  two  or  three 
days  before  this  outbreak,  he  came,  one  morning,  looking  as 
pale  as  a  ghost,  but  evidently  very  much  excited.  Before  I 
had  time  to  ask  him  the  cause  of  his  emotion,  he  exclaimed, 
'  This  time  there  is  no  mistake  about  it ;  we  are  the  masters.' 
I  suppose  my  face  must  have  looked  a  perfect  blank,  for  he 
proceeded  to  explain.  '  In  two  days  we'll  hold  our  sittings  at 
the  H6tel-de-Ville,  and  the  Commune  will  be  proclaimed. 
And  now,  he  added,  'what  can  I  do  for  you,  citoyen  Gil- 
Peres  ?  You  have  always  been  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  am 
not  likely  to  forget  it  when  I  am  at  the  top  of  the  tree.' 

"  I  told  him  that  I'd  feel  much  obliged  to  him  if  he  could 
induce  Sardou  or  Dumas  to  write  me  a  good  part,  like  the  lat- 
ter had  done  before,  because  I  wanted  to  be  something  more 
than  a  comic  actor.     But  I  saw  that  he  was  getting  angry. 

" '  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,'  he  almost  hissed, '  that  you 
do  not  want  to  belong  to  the  Commune  ? ' 

" '  I  haven't  the  slightest  ambition  that  way,'  I  replied. 
*  People  would  only  make  fun  of  me,  and  they  would  be  per- 
fectly right.' 

" '  Why  should  people  make  fun  of  you? ' 

" '  Because,  because '  I  stammered. 

"He  left  me  no  time  to  finish.    *  Because  you  are  a  small 


468  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

man,'  he  said.  '  Well,  I  am  a  small  man,  too,  and  an  ugly 
one  into  the  bargain.  I  can  assure  you  that  the  world  will 
hear  as  much  of  me  before  long  as  if  I  had  been  an  Adonis 
and  a  Hercules.'  With  this  he  disappeared,  and  I  have  not 
seen  him  since." 

My  purpose  in  reporting  this  conversation  is  to  show  that 
the  Commune,  with  all  its  evils,  might  have  been  prevented 
by  the  so-called  government  of  Versailles,  if  its  members  had 
been  a  little  less  eager  to  get  their  snug  berths  comfortably 
settled. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Ferre  and  his  companions, 
who,  without  exception,  were  sober  to  a  degree,  though  many 
were  probably  fond  of  good  cheer.  The  English'  writers, 
often  very  insufficiently  informed,  have  generally  maintained 
the  contrary,  but  I  know  for  a  fact  that,  among  the  leaders 
of  the  movement,  drunkenness  was  unknown,  Ferre  him- 
self was  among  the  soberest  of  the  lot :  the  few  evenings  I 
saw  him  he  drank  either  cold  coffee  or  some  cordial  diluted 
with  water.  Nevertheless,  it  was  he  who  was  directly  re- 
sponsible for  the  death  of  Archbishop  Darboy,  whom  he 
could  and  might  have  saved. 

In  every  modern  tragedy  there  is  a  comic  element,  and  in 
that  of  the  Commune  the  comic  parts  were,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, sustained  by  Gambon,  Jourde,  and  a  few  others  whom 
it  is  not  necessary  to  mention.  Gambon  was  one  of  the  mild- 
est of  creatures,  and  somewhat  of  a  "  communard  malgre 
lui."  He  would  have  willingly  "left  the  settlement  of  all 
these  vexed  questions  to  moral  force,"  and  he  proposed  once 
or  twice  a  mission  to  Versailles  to  that  effect.  He  was  about 
fifty,  and  a  fine  specimen  of  a  robust,  healthy  farmer.  His 
love  of  "  peaceful  settlement "  arose  from  an  experiment  he 
had  made  in  that  way  during  the  Empire,  though  it  is  very 
doubtful  whether  strictly  logical  reasoners  would  have  looked 
upon  it  as  "  peaceful."  Gambon  had  been  a  magistrate  and 
a  member  of  the  National  Assembly  during  the  Second  Ee- 
public,  and  voted  with  the  conservative  side.  The  advent  of 
the  Empire  made  an  end  of  his  parliamentary  career,  and,  in 
order  to  mark  his  disapproval  of  the  Coup-d'Etat  and  its 
sequel,  Gambon  refused  to  pay  his  taxes.  The  authorities 
seized  one  of  his  cows,  and  were  proceeding  to  sell  it  by 
auction,  when  Gambon,  accompanied  by  a  good  many  of  his 
former  constituents,  appeared  on  the  scene.  "  This  cow,"  he 
shouts,  "  has  been  stolen  from  me  by  the  Imperial  fisc,  and 


A  MAN  AND  A  COW.  469 

whosoever  buys  it  is  nothing  more  tlian  a  thief  himself." 
Eesult :  not  a  single  bid  for  the  cow,  and  the  auctioneer  was 
compelled  to  adjourn  the  sale  for  a  week.  The  auctioneer 
deemed  it  prudent  to  transport  the  cow  to  a  neighbouring 
commune,  but  Gambon  had  got  wind  of  the  affair,  and 
adopted  the  same  expedient  of  moral  persuasion.  For  nearly 
three  months  the  auctioneer  transported  the  cow  from  one 
commune  to  another,  and  Gambon  followed  him  everywhere, 
until  they  reached  the  limits  of  the  department.  Gambon 
apprehended  that  moral  persuasion  would  have  no  effect 
among  strangers,  and  he  let  things  take  their  course.  The 
cost  of  selling  the  cow  amounted  to  about  ten  times  its 
worth.  As  a  matter  of  course,  the  whole  affair  was  revived 
by  "  les  journaux  bien  pensants  "  at  the  advent  of  the  Com- 
mune, and  Gambon  was  elected  a  member  by  the  10th  Arron- 
dissement.  Gambon  managed  to  escape  into  Switzerland; 
but  when  the  amnesty  was  proclaimed,  he  returned,  and 
solicited  once  more  the  suffrages  of  his  former  constituents. 
At  the  Brasserie  Saint-Severiu,  Gambon  Avas  generally  to  be 
found  at  the  ladies'  table,  about  the  occupants  of  which  I 
cannot  speak,  seeing  that  I  was  not  introduced  to  them. 

Jourde  was  one  of  two  "  financial  delegates  "  of  the  Com- 
mune. He  had  been  a  superior  employe  at  the  Bank  of 
France,  and  was  considered  an  authority  on  financial  affairs. 
It  was  he  to  whom  the  Marquis  de  Ploeuc,  the  governor  of 
the  Bank,  had  handed  the  first  million  for  the  use  of  the 
Commune.  My  friend,  the  doctor,  had  known  him  in  hia 
former  capacity,  and  often  invited  him  to  our  table,  to  which 
invitation  the  "  paymaster-general "  always  eagerly  responded. 
One  evening,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  events  which 
had  preceded  the  request  for  funds.  "  On  the  second  day  of 
the  Commune,"  he  said,  "  the  want  of  money  began  to  be 
horribly  felt.  Eudes  proposed  that  I  should  go  and  fetch 
some  from  the  Bank  of  France.  To  be  perfectly  candid,  I 
did  not  care  about  it.  Had  T  been  a  soldier,  I  might  have 
invaded  the  Bank  at  the  head  of  a  regiment ;  but,  to  go  and 
ask  my  former  chief  for  a  million  or  so  as  a  matter  of  course, 
was  a  different  thing,  and  I  had  not  the  moral  courage.  The 
director  of  the  Bank  of  France  is  very  little  short  of  a  god  to 
his  subordinates,  and,  in  spite  of  our  boasted  '  Liberty,  Fra- 
ternity, and  Equality,'  there  is  no  nation  so  ready  to  bow- 
down  before  its  governors  as  the  French.  Seeing  that  I  hung 
back,  Eudes  proposed  to  go  himself,  and  did,  refusing  to  take 


470  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

a  single  soldier  with  him.  But  he  did  not  want  the  respon- 
sibility of  handling  the  million  of  francs  the  governor  placed 
at  our  disposal,  so  I  was,  after  all,  obliged  to  beard  my  former 
chief  in  his  own  den.  He  was  very  polite,  and  called  me 
*  Monsieur  le  delegue  aux  finances,'  but  I  would  have  pre- 
ferred his  calling  me  all  the  names  in  the  world,  for  I  caught 
sight  of  a  very  ironical  smile  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth 
when,  on  taking  leave  of  him,  he  said,  '  You  may  be  my  suc- 
cessor one  day,  Monsieur  le  delegue,  and  I  hope  you  will 
profit  by  the  lessons  I  have  always  endeavoured  to  teach  my 
subordinates  :  obedience  to  the  powers  that  be.' " 

Jourde  was  by  no  means  a  fool  or  a  braggart ;  he  was  a 
very  good  administrator,  and  exceedingly  conscientious.  Like 
most  men  who  have  had  the  constant  handling  of  important 
sums  of  money,  he  was  absolutely  indifferent  to  it ;  and  I  feel 
certain  that  he  did  not  feather  his  own  nest  during  the  two 
months  he  had  the  chance.  But  he  vainly  endeavoured  to 
impress  upon  the  others  the  necessity  for  economy.  Every 
now  and  then  he  tore  his  red  hair  and  beard  at  the  waste 
going  on  at  the  H6tel-de-Ville,  where,  in  the  beginning,  Assi 
was  keeping  open  table.  Not  that  they  were  feasting,  but 
<•- every  one  who  had  a  mind  could  sit  down,  and,  though  the 
sum  charged  by  the  steward  was  moderate,  two  francs  for 
breakfast  and  two  francs  fifty  centimes  for  dinner,  the  num- 
ber of  self-invited  guests  increased  day  by  day,  and  the  pay- 
master-general was  at  his  wits'  end  to  keep  pace  with  the  ex- 
penses. The  Central-Committee  put  a  stop  to  this  indiscrimi- 
nate hospitality  by  simply  arresting  Assi,  whom  I  never  saw. 

When  the  Commune  decreed  the  demolition  of  the  Ven- 
dome  column,  Jourde  was  still  more  angry  and  in  despair. 
He  was,  first  of  all,  opposed  to  its  destruction,  from  a  patri- 
otic and  common-sense  point  of  view :  secondly,  he  objected 
to  the  waste  of  money  that  destruction  entailed ;  he  endeav- 
oured to  cut  the  Gordian  knot  by  stopping  the  workmen's 
pay.  Though  three  or  four  of  his  fellow  "  delegates  "  were 
absolutely  of  the  same  opinion,  the  rest  sent  him  a  polite  in- 
timation that  if  the  necessary  funds  were  not  disbursed  vol- 
untarily they  would  send  for  them,  and  take  the  opportunity, 
at  the  same  time,  to  "  put  him  against  the  wall,"  and  make 
an  end  of  him.  That  night,  Courbet,  the  painter,  who  had 
been  the  prime  mover  in  this  work  of  destruction,  came  to 
the  Brasserie  Saint-Severin  from  the  Brasserie  Andler,  hard 
by,  to  taste  the  sweets  of  his  victory.    His  friend,  Ohaudey, 


THE  GLORY  OF  SOLOMON.  ^^1 

?l  ^^^^'?^f<^?^' ^as  no  longer  with  him.  Like  Mot.  Darbov 
the  Abbes  Lagarde,  Crozes,  and  Deguerry,  he  had  been 
arrested  by  Raoul  Eigault  as  a  hostage,  in  virtue  of  a  decree 
by  the  Commune,  setting  forth  that  every  execution  of  a 
prisoner  of  war,  taken  by  the  Versaillais,  would  be  followed 
by  the  execution  of  three  hostages  to  be  drawn  by  lot.    ' 

Jourde  did  not  wear  a  uniform ;  at  any  rate,  I  never  saw 
him  in  one.  I  happened  to  remark  upon  it  one  evening,  and 
he  then  gave  me  a  partial  explanation  why  the  others  did 
wear  them  in  so  ostentatious  a  manner. 

_  "  It  is  really  done  to  please  the  National  Guards ;  they 
mistrust  those  who  remain  '  in  mufti ; '  they  attribute  their 
reluctance  to  don  the  uniform  to  the  fear  of  being  compro- 
mised, to  the  wish  to  escape  unnoticed  if  things  should  go 
wrong.  I  grant  you  that  all  this  does  not  warrant  the  uni- 
forms most  of  my  colleagues  do  wear,  but  to  the  Latin  races 
the  wisdom  of  Solomon  lies  in  his  magnificence,  and  they 
trace  the  elevation  of  Joseph  to  its  primary  cause — his  coat 
of  many  colours.  I  am  not  only  '  delegate  of  finances '  and 
paymaster-general,  but  head  cook  and  bottle-washer  in  all 
that  concerns  monetary  matters  to  the  Central-Committee.  I 
have  very  few  clerks  to  assist  me  in  my  work,  and  fewer  stilly 
upon  whose  honesty  I  can  depend ;  consequently,  I  am  com- 
pelled to  do  a  good  deal  of  drudgery  myself.  Yesterday  I 
received  the  fortnightly  accounts  of  Godillot,*  the  military 
tailors  and  accoutrement  manufacturers.  They  seemed  to  me 
simply  monstrous,  not  so  much  in  respect  of  the  prices  charged 
for  each  uniform,  as  in  respect  of  the  number  of  uniforms 
supplied.  To  have  sent  one  of  my  clerks  would  have  been  of 
no  earthly  use ;  there  is  an  old  Normand  saying  about  send- 
ing the  cat  to  Eome  and  his  coming  back  mewing ;  the  clerk 
would  have  simply  come  back  mewing,  saying  that  there  was 
no  mistake,  so  I  went  myself.     I  saw  the  chief  manager. 

"  '  I  am  positive  there  is  no  mistake,  monsieur,'  he  said, 
*  though  I  may  tell  you  at  once  that  I  made  the  same  remark 
when  I  passed  the  accounts  ;  the  number  of  uniforms  seemed 
to  me  inordinately  large ;  mais  il  faut  se  rendre  a  I'evidence, 
and  I  ticketed  off  every  item  by  its  corresponding  voucher. 
Still  I  felt  that  there  is  a  terrible  waste  somewhere,  and  said 
so  to  the  head  of  the  retail  department.    "  If  you  will  remain 

*  The  word  "  Godillot "  has  passed  into  the  French  language,  and,  at  pres- 
ent, means  the  soldier's  shoes.— Editoe. 


4:72  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

downstairs  for  one  hour,"  was  the  answer,  "  you  will  have 
the  explanation."  I  can  only  say  the  same  to  you,  Monsieur 
le  delegue.' 

"  I  did  remain  on  that  ground-floor  for  one  hour,"  Jourde 
went  on,  "  and,  during  that  time,  no  fewer  than  eight  young 
fellows  came  in  with  vouchers  for  complete  uniforms  of  lieu- 
tenants or  captains  of  the  staff.  Most  of  them  looked  to  me 
as  if  they  had  never  handled  a  sword  or  rifle  in  their  lives — 
yardsticks  seemed  more  in  their  line ;  and  the  airs  they  gave 
themselves  positively  disgusted  me ;  but  I  do  not  want  an- 
other reminder  of  the  Central-Committee  about  my  cheese- 
paring, so  I'll  let  things  take  their  course.  Look,  here  is  a 
sample  of  how  we  deck  ourselves  out  quand  nous  aliens  en 
guerre." 

I  looked  in  the  direction  pointed  out  to  me,  and  beheld  a 
somewhat  dark  individual  with  lank,  black  hair,  of  ordinary 
height,  or  a  little  below  perhaps,  dressed  in  a  most  extraor- 
dinary costume.  He  wore  a  blue  Zouave  jacket,  large  baggy 
crimson  breeches  tucked  into  a  pair  of  quasi- hessian  boots,  a 
crimson  sash,  and  a  black  sombrero  hat  with  a  red  feather. 
A  long  cavalry  sabre  completed  the  costume.  Upon  the 
^whole,  he  carried  himself  well,  though  there  was  a  kind  of 
swashbuckler  air  about  him  which  smacked  of  the  stage.  I 
was  not  mistaken ;  the  scent  or  the  smell  of  the  footlights 
was  over  it  all. 

"  This  is  Colonel  Maxime  Lisbonne,  an  actor  by  profes- 
sion, who  has  taken  to  soldiering  with  a  vengeance,"  said 
Jourde.  "  There  is  no  doubt  about  his  bravery,  but  he  is  as 
fit  to  be  a  colonel  as  I  am  to  be  a  general.  It  does  not  seem 
to  strike  my  colleagues  that,  in  no  matter  what  profession, 
one  has  to  serve  an  apprenticeship,  and,  most  of  all,  in  the 
science  of  soldiering ;  Maxime  Lisbonne  said  he  would  be  a 
colonel,  so  they,  without  more  ado,  made  him  one.*  He 
never  moves  without  that  Turco  at  his  heels." 

*  During  my  stay  in  Paris,  1881-86,  as  the  correspondent  of  a  London  even- 
ing paper,  I  had  occasion  to  see  a  great  deal  of  M.  Maxime  Lisbonne,  who  is  a 
prominent  figure  at  nearly  every  social  function,  such  as  premieres,  the  unveil- 
ing of  monuments,  the  opening  of  public  buildings,  etc.  The  reason  of  this 
prominence  has  never  been  very  clear  to  me,  unless  it  be  on  the  assumption 
that  the  Paris  journalists,  even  tne  foremost  of  whom  he  treats  on  a  footing  of 
equality,  consider  him  "  good  copy."  Only  as  late  as  a  few  years  ago,  he  made 
a  considerable  sensation  in  the  Paris  press  by  appearing  at  one  of  M.  Camot's 
receptions  in  evening  dress,  redolent  of  benzine,  "  because  the  dress  had  been 
lying  perdu  for  so  many  years."  It  was  he  who  started  the  famous  "  taveme 
du  bagne,"  on  the  Boulevard  Rochechouart,  to  which  "  ^  Paris "  flocked. 


ANOTHER  GENERAL.  4/73 

On  another  occasion  I  saw  the  famous  General  Dombrow- 
ski,  and  the  no  less  famous  Colonel  or  General  la  Cecilia  I 
only  exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  former,  but  I  sat  talk- 
ing for  a  whole  evening  to  the  latter.  He  was  a  short,  spare, 
fidgety  man,  strongly  jntted  with  small-pox,  with  a  few 
straggling  hairs  on  the  upper  lip  and  chin.  He  was  terribly 
near-sighted,  and  wore  a  pair  of  thick  spectacles.  Nervous 
and  restless  to  a  degree,  but  a  voice  of  remarkable  sweetness. 
His  English  Avas  faultless,  with  scarcely  any  accent,  and  I 
was  told  that  he  spoke  every  European  language  and  several 
Oriental  ones  with  the  same  accuracy.  He  was  the  only 
Frenchman  who  could  converse  with  Dombrowski  and  the 
other  Poles  in  their  native  language.  He  was  a  clever  mathe- 
matician, and,  that  evening,  he  endeavoured  to  prove  mathe- 
matically that  Von  Moltke  had  committed  several  blunders, 
both  at  Sadowa  and  Sedan.  "That  kind  of  thing,"  said 
Jourde,  after  he  was  gone,  "  was  sure  to  'fetch '  the  Central- 
Committee  ;  he  always  reminds  me  of  the  doctors  in  Moli^re 
trying  to  prove  that  one  of  their  confreres  had  cured  a  pa- 
tient contrary  to  the  principles  of  medicine.  Mind,  do  not 
imagine  that  La  Cecilia  is  not  a  good  soldier.  He  got  all  his 
grades  in  the  Italian  army,  on  the  battle-fields  of  'o9-'60, 
and,  during  the  late  war,  he  directed  the  brilliant  defence  of 
Alen^on.  But  between  a  good  soldier  and  a  great  general 
there  is  a  vast  difference." 

Physically,  Dombrowski  was  almost  the  counterpart  of 
La  Cecilia,  with  the  exception  of  the  glasses  and  the  small- 
pox. But  while  the  Frenchman — for  Cecilia  was  a  French- 
man notwithstanding  his  Italian  name — was  modest  though 
critical,  the  Pole  was  a  braggart,  though  by  no  means  devoid 
of  courage.  Up  to  the  very  end,  he  sent  in  reports  of  his 
victories,  all  of  which  were  purely  imaginary.     Even  as  late 

Previous  to  this,  he  had  been  the  lessee  of  the  Bouffes  du  Nord,  at  which 
theatre  he  brought  out  Louise  Jlichel's  "  Nadine."  Though  by  no  means  an 
educated  man,  he  can,  on  occasions,  behave  himself  very  ■well,  and  truth  com- 
pels me  to  state  that  he  is  very  good-natured  and  obliging.  One  day,  on  the 
occasion  of  an  important  murder  trial,  I  failed  to  see  Commandant  Lunel  at  tho 
Palais  de  Justice,  and  wa-s  turning  away  diseonsolatelv,  when,  at  a  sign  from 
M.  Lisbonne,  the  sergeant  of  the  Gardes' de  Paris,  who  had  refused  to  admit  mo 
on  the  presentation  of  my  card,  relented.  That  same  afternoon,  at  the  mere 
expression  of  his  wish,  the  manager  of  the  Jardin  de  Paris,  which  had  just 
been  opened,  presented  me  with  a  season  ticket,  or,  to  speak  correctly,  placed 
mv  name  on  the  permanent  free  list.  In  short,  I  could  mention  a  score  of  in- 
stances of  a  similar  nature ;  all  tending  to  show  that  M.  Maxime  Lisbonne  a 
"participation  in  the  events  of  the  Commune  "  has  had  the  effect  of  investing 
bun  with  a  kind  of  social  halo.— Editor. 


474  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

as  the  2l8t  of  May,  wlien  the  Versailles  troops  were  carmng 
everything  before  them,  the  newspaper-boys  were  shouting, 
"  Brilliant  victory  of  General  Dombrowski."  Dombrowski 
had  been  invested  with  his  high  command  under  the  pretext 
that  he  had  fought  under  Garibaldi  and  in  the  Polish  strug- 
gle against  Kussia.  It  transpired  afterwards  that  he  had 
never  seen  Garibaldi  nor  Garibaldi  him,  and  that,  so  far 
from  having  aided  his  own  countrymen,  he  had  been  a  sim- 
ple private  in  the  Kussian  army.  Still,  he  was  a  better  man 
than  his  countryman  Wrobleski,  who  showed  his  courage  by 
going  to  bed  while  the  Versaillais  were  shelling  Vanves. 

******* 

Amon^  my  papers  I  find  a  torn  programme  of  a  concert  at 
the  Tuileries  during  the  Commune.     It  reads  as  follows : — 

Commune  de  Paeis, 

PALAIS    DEB    TUILERIES 

Servant  pour  la  premiere  fois  a  une  ceuvre  patriotique 

GKAND   CONCEET 

Au  Profit  des  Veuves  et  Orphelins  de  la  Republique. 


Sous  le  Patronage  de  la  Commune  et  du  Citoyen  Dr,  Rousselle, 


Tout  porteur  de  billet  pris  a  I'avance  pourra  sans  retribution,  visiter  le 
Palais  des  Tuileries. 

The  rest  is  missing,  but  I  remember  that  among  the  art- 
ists who  gave  their  services  were  Mesdames  Agar  and  Bordas ; 
MM.  Coquelin  cadet,  and  Francis  Thome,  the  pianist. 

I  did  not  take  my  ticket  beforehand,  consequently  was 
not  entitled  to  a  stroll  through  the  Palace  previous  to  the 
concert.  When  I  entered  the  Salle  des  Marechaux,  where 
the  concert  was  to  take  place,  I  felt  thankful  that  the  trial 
had  been  spared  to  me,  and  I  mentally  ejaculated  a  wish  that 
I  might  never  see  that  glorious  apartment  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances. The  traces  of  neglect  were  too  painful  to  be- 
hold, though  I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  could  detect  no  proofs 
of  wilful  damage.  My  wish  was  gratified  with  a  vengeance. 
A  little  more  than  a  month  afterwards,  the  building  was  in 


A  SOIRfeE  AT  THE  TUILERIES.  475 

flames,  and,  at  the  hour  I  write,  it  is  being  razed  to  the 
ground. 

I  did  not  stay  long ;  I  heard  Madame  Agar,  dressed  in 
deep  mourning,  declaim  "  the  Marseillaise,"  and  M.  Thome 
execute  a  fantasia  on  well-known  operatic  airs.  Some  of  the 
reserved  seats  were  occupied  by  the  minor  dignitaries  of  the 
Commune,  but  the  greater  part  of  the  place  was  filled  by 
working  men  and  their  spouses  and  the  very  petite  bour- 
geoisie. The  latter  seemed  to  be  in  doubt  whether  to  enjoy 
themselves  or  not ;  but  the  former  were  very  vociferous,  and 
had  evidently  made  up  their  minds  that  the  Commune  was 
the  best  of  all  possible  regimes,  seeing  that  it  enabled  them 
to  listen  to  a  concert  in  a  palace  for  a  mere  trifle.  "  That's 
equality,  as  I  understand  it,  monsieur,"  said  a  workman  in  a 
very  clean  blouse  to  me,  at  the  same  time  making  room  for 
me  on  the  seat  next  to  him.  He  and  his  companion  beguiled 
the  time  between  the  first  and  second  number  on  the  pro- 
gramme by  sucking  barley-sugar. 

About  a  month  later — on  Wednesday,  May  17th,  but  I 
will  not  be  certain — I  was  present  at  the  first  gala-perform- 
ance organized  by  the  Commune,  although  the  Versailles 
troops  were  within  gunshot  of  the  fortifications.  This  time 
I  had  taken  a  ticket  beforehand.  The  performance  was  to 
take  place  at  the  Opera-Comique,  and  long  before  the  ap- 
pointed hour  the  Boulevards  and  the  streets  adjoining  the 
theatre  were  crowded  with  idlers,  anxious  to  watch  the  ar- 
rival of  the  bigwigs  under  whose  immediate  patronage  the 
entertainment  was  to  be  given.  The  papers  had  been  full  of 
it  for  days  and  days  beforehand ;  the  posters  on  the  walls  had 
set  forth  its  many  attractions.  In  accordance  with  tradi- 
tional usage  on  such  occasions,  the  programme  was  a  miscel- 
laneous one,  and  the  wags  did  not  fail  to  remark  that  the 
Commune  ought  to  have  struck  out  something  original  in- 
stead of  blindly  following  the  precedents  of  tyrants ;  but  in 
reality  the  Commune  had  no  choice.  Few  of  the  principal 
artists  of  the  subsidized  theatres  were  available,  and  there 
was  an  evident  reluctance  to  co-operate  among  some  of  those 
who  were ;  hence  it  was  decided  to  give  fragments  of  such 
operas  or  comedies,  calculated  to  stimulate  still  further  the 
patriotic  and  republican  sentiments  with  which  the  majority 
of  the  spectators  were  credited.  There  had  been  less  diffi- 
culty in  recruiting  the  orchestra,  and  a  very  fair  band  was 
got  together.    A  great  many  invitations  had  been  issued; 


476  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

few  of  the  seats,  especially  in  the  better  parts,  were  paid 
for. 

All  the  entrances  had  been  thrown  open,  and  around  every 
one  there  was  a  considerable  gathering,  almost  exclusively 
composed  of  National  Guards  in  uniform,  and  women  of 
the  working  classes,  who  enthusiastically  cheered  each 
known  personage  on  his  arrival.  The  latter  were  too  mag- 
nificent for  words,  the  clanking  sabres,  resplendent  uni- 
forms, and  waving  plumes  only  paled  in  contrast  with  the 
toilettes  of  their  female  companions  who  hung  proudly  on 
their  arms.  For  them,  at  any  rate,  "  le  jour  de  gloire  etait 
arrive." 

The  crowd,  especially  the  fairer  portion  of  it,  was  de- 
cidedly enthusiastic,  perhaps  somewhat  too  enthusiastic,  in 
their  ultra-cordial  greetings  and  recognition  of  the  ladies,  so 
suddenly  promoted  in  the  social  scale.  Melanie  and  Clarisse 
would  have  been  satisfied  with  a  less  literal  interpretation 
of  "Auld  Lang  Syne,"  as  they  stepped  out  of  the  car- 
riages, the  horses  of  which  belied  the  boast  that  at  the  end 
of  the  siege  there  were  30,000  serviceable  animals  of  that 
kind  left. 

The  performance  had  been  timed  for  half-past  seven ;  at 
half-past  eight,  the  principal  box  set  apart  for  the  chiefs  of 
the  new  regime  was  still  empty.  As  I  have  already  said,  dis- 
quieting rumours  had  been  afloat  for  the  last  few  days  with 
regard  to  the  approach  of  the  Versailles  troops,  the  guns  had 
been  thundering  all  day  long,  and,  what  was  worse,  for  the 
last  forty-eight  hours  no  "  startling  victory "  had  been  an- 
nounced either  on  the  walls  of  Paris  or  in  the  papers.  Some 
of  the  "  great  men,"  among  the  audience  in  the  stalls  and 
dress-circle,  and  easily  to  be  distinguished  from  the  ruck  of 
ordinary  mortals,  professed  themselves  unable  to  supply  au- 
thentic information,  but  as  the  performance  had  not  been 
countermanded,  they  suggested  that  things  were  not  so  bad 
as  they  looked. 

The  theatre  was  crammed  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  the 
din  was  something  terrible.  The  heat  was  oppressive ;  luckily 
the  gas  was  burning  low  because  the  companies  were  as  yet 
unable  to  provide  a  full  supply.  There  were  few  people  out 
of  uniform  in  either  stalls  or  dress-circle,  but  the  upper  parts 
were  occupied  by  blouses  with  a  fair  sprinkling  of  cloth  coats. 
The  women  seemed  to  me  to  make  the  most  infernal  noise. 
The  two  stage-boxes  were  still  empty ;  in  the  others  there 


A  GALA  PERFORMAXCK  477 

were  a  good  many  journalists  and  ladies  who  had  come  to 
criticize  the  appearance  and  demeanour  of  the  "  dames  de 
nos  nouveaux  gouvernants."  There  was  one  box  which  at- 
tracted particular  attention ;  one  of  its  occupants,  evidently 
a  "dame  du  monde,"  was  in  evening  dress,  wearing  some 
magnificent  diamonds,  while  it  was  very  patent  that  those 
of  her  own  social  status  had  made  it  a  point  to  dress  as 
simply  as  possible.  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  out  the 
name  of  the  lady ;  I  had  not  seen  her  before,  I  have  not  seen 
her  since. 

At  about  a  quarter  to  nine  the  doors  of  the  stage-boxes 
were  flung  back,  and  the  guests  of  the  evening  appeared. 
But  alas,  they  were  not  the  chief  members  of  the  Commune, 
only  the  secondary  characters.  It  is  doubtful,  though,  whether 
the  former  could  have  been  more  magnificently  attired  than 
were  the  latter.  Their  uniforms  were  positively  hidden  be- 
neath the  gold  lace. 

Immediately,  the  band  struck  up  the  inevitable  "Mar- 
seillaise ; "  the  spectators  in  the  upper  galleries  joined  in  the 
chorus ;  the  building  shook  to  its  foundations,  and,  amidst 
the  terrible  din,  one  could  distinctly  hear  the  crowds  on  the 
Boulevards  re-echoing  the  strains.  The  occupants  of  the 
state  boxes  gave  the  signal  for  the  applause,  then  the  curtain 
rose,  and  Mdlle.  Agar,  in  peplos  and  cothurnus,  recited  the 
strophes  once  more.  "When  the  curtain  fell,  the  audience 
rushed  to  the  foyer  or  out  into  the  open  air ;  at  any  rate,  the 
former  was  not  inconveniently  crowded.  Among  those  stroll- 
ing up  and  down  I  noticed  the  lady  of  the  diamonds,  on  the 
arm  of  a  rather  common-looking  individual  in  a  gorgeous 
uniform.  I  believe  I  caught  sight  of  the  American  Minister, 
but  I  will  not  be  certain.  j       .i. 

This  time  the  curtain  rose  upon  an  act  of  a  comedy ;  the 
spectators,  however,  did  not  seem  to  be  vastly  interested ;  they 
were  evidently  waiting  for  the  duo  to  be  sung  by  Madame 
Ugalde  and  a  tenor  whose  name  I  do  not  remember.  He 
was,  I  heard,  an  amateur  of  great  promise. 

Scarcelv  had  Madame  Ugalde  uttered  her  first  notes,  when 
a  bu  crier  of  "'the  franc-tireurs  of  the  Commune  stepped  in  front 
of  an  empty  box  and  sounded  the  charge.  The  effect  was 
startling.  The  audience  rose  to  a  man,  and  rushed  to  the 
exits  In  less  than  five  minutes  the  building  was  empty.  1 
had  iet  the  human  avalanche  pass  by.  When  I  came  outside 
I  was  told  that  it  was  a  false  alarm,  or,  rather,  a  practical 


478  AN  ENGLISHMAN  IN  PARIS. 

joke ;  but  no  one  re-entered  the  theatre.  Thus  ended  the 
gala-performance  of  the  Commune,  and  a  careful  observer 
would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  foreseeing  the  end  of  the 
latter.  The  bugler  had,  unconsciously  perhaps,  sounded  its 
death-knell. 


THE  END. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


CHRISTOPHER  COLUMBUS. 


-HE   STORY  OF  COLUMBUS. 

By  Elizabeth  Eggleston  Seelye  ;  ed- 
ited by  Dr.  Edward  Eggleston.  With 
lOO  Illustrations  by  Allegra  Eggleston. 
i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 

This  book  is  the  result  of  most  extensive 
investigations,  which  have  been  carefully  veri- 
fied by  the  eminent  historian  and  novelist, 
Dr.  Eggleston.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
the  whole  world  has  been  drawn  upon  for  ma- 
terial by  the  author  and  the  artist.  The  fruits 
of  these  investigations  are  presented  in  a  popular,  readable,  always  entertain- 
ing form.  While  the  book  contains  all  the  results  ol 
modem  inquiry  offered  in  the  bulkiest  biographies, 
the  story  is  here  condensed  and  the  material  selected 
with  a  view  to  an  always  interesting  narrative.  To 
a  considerable  extent  the  plan  of  both  text  and  illus- 
trations is  like  that  of  Eggleston's  "  Household  His- 
tory of  the  United  States."  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say  more  regarding  the  fitness  of  this  volume  for  a 
place  in  every  American  private,  public,  and  school 

library.  tyC-^  "  The  purpose  of  the  writer  of  this  book 

has  been  to  relate  the  life  of  the  greatest 
of  discoverers  in  a  manner  interesting;  and 
delightful  to  the  general  reader,  while  pro- 
ducing a  narrative  strictly  conformed  to 
the  facts  as  given  by  the  best  ancient  au- 
thorities and  developed  by  the  latest  re- 
searches of  scholars.  There  is  here  no 
attempt  to  discuss  the  pros  and  cons  of 
debated  points  in  Columbian  history. 
Such  investigators  as  Navarrete,  Mr.  Har- 
risse,  Signor  Staglieno,  and  our  own 
learned  Mr.  Justin  Winsor,  have  wrought 
CATAPULT.  abundantly  and   with 

large  results  upon 
these  problems.  It  is  the  purpose  of  the  present  work  to  tell  the 
story  as  understood  through  the  labors  of  these  scholars,  leaving 
aside  ponderous  discussions  which  in  a  book  intended  for  general 
reading  would  tire  without  enlightening. 

"  Though  disclaiming  original  investigation  beyond  the  care- 
ful use  of  the  leading  authorities,  Mrs,  Seelye  has  been  at  much 
pains  not  to  give  the  reader  the  discredited  myths  used  by  the 
old  school  of  biographers.  It  is  a  poor  service  to  relate  as  history 
an  interesting  story  that  is  not  true,  or  to  lift  an  historical  figure 
into  a  heroism  far  from  his  real  character.  To  give  the  facts  as 
we  know  them,  and  to  show  Columbus  as  he  really  was,  has  been 
the  sincere  endeavor  of  the  writer  of  this  book.  The  story  is 
wonderful  enough  without  the  embellishment  of  fiction;  the  man 
is  interesting  enough  when  painted  in  his  real  colors." — From  tkt 
Introduction,  by  Edward  Egerleston.  _ 

'     ■'  **  IMAGE  FOUOTJ  AT 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  St,     santo  DOMwca 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


cr. 


BEER  RABBIT  PREACHES. 


THE  PLANT  A  TJON. 
By  Joel  Chandler  Harris,  au- 
thor of  "  Uncle  Remus."  With 
23  Illustrations  by  E.  W.  Kem- 
BLE,  and  Portrait  of  the  Author. 
l2mo.  Cloth,  §1.50. 
The  most  personal  and  in  some  re- 
spects the  most  important  work  which 
Mr.  Harris  has  published  since  "Uncle 
Remus."  Many  will  read  between  the 
lunes  and  see  the  autobiography  of  the 
author.  In  addition  to  the  stirring  inci- 
dents  which  appear  in  the  story,  the  au- 
thor presents  a  graphic  picture  of  certain 
phases  of  Southern  life  which  have  not 
appeared  in  his  books  before.  There  are  also  new  examples  of  the  folk-lore 
of  the  negroes,  which  became  classic  when  presented  to  the  pubhc  in  the 
pages  of  "  Uncle  Remus.'" 

"  The  book  is  in  the  characteristic  vein  which  has  made  the  author  so  famous  and 
popular  as  an  interpreter  of  plantation  character."— ifocA/j/*r  Union  and  Advertiser. 

"  Those  who  never  tire  of  Uncle  Remus  and  his  stories— with  whom  we  would  be 
axxounted — will  delight  in  Joe  Maxwell  and  his  exploits." — London  Saturday  Review. 

"  Altogether  a  most  charming  book.*' — Chicago  Times. 

"  Really  a  valuable,  if  modest,  contribution  to  the  history  of  the  civil  war  within  the 
Confederate  lines,  particularly  on  the  eve  of  the  catastrophe.  While  Mr.  Harris,  in  his 
preface,  professes  to  have  lost  the  power  to  distinguish  between  what  is  true  and  what 
is  imaginative  in  his  episodical  narrative,  the  reader  readily  finds  the  clew.  Two  or 
three  new  animal  fables  are  introduced  with  eflfect;  but  the  history  of  the  plantation,  the 
printing-office,  the  black  runaways,  and  white  deserters,  of  whom  the  impending  break- 
up made  the  community  tolerant,  the  coon  and  fox  hunting,  forms  the  serious  purpose 
of  the  book,  and  holds  the  reader's  interest  from  beginning  to  end.  Like  '  Daddy  Jake,' 
this  is  a  good  anri-slavery  tract  in  disguise,  and  does  credit  to  Mr.  Harris's  humanity. 
There  are  amusing  illustrations  by  E.  W.  Kemble." — New  York  Evening  Post. 

"  A  charming  little  book,  tastefully  gotten  up.  ...  Its  simplicity,  humor,  and  indi- 
viduality would  be  very  welcome  to  any  one  who  was  weary  of  the  pretentiousc-ss  and 
the  duH  obviousness  of  the  average  three-vclume  novel." — London  ChronLle. 

"  The  mirage  of  war  vanishes  and  reappears  like  an  ominous  shadow  on  the  horizon, 
but  the  stay-at-home  whites  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  were  likewise  th;  eatened  by 
fears  of  a  servile  insurrection.  This  dark  dread  exerts  its  influence  on  a  narration  which 
is  otherwise  cheery  with  boyhood's  fortunate  freedom  from  anxietj',  and  sublime  disre- 
gard for  what  the  morrow  may  bring  forth.  The  simple  chronicle  of  old  times  '  on  the 
plantation  '  concludes  all  too  soon  ;  the  fire  bums  low  and  the  tale  is  ended  just  as  the 
reader  becomes  acclimated  to  the  mid-Georgian  village,  and  feels  thoroughly  at  home 
with  Joe  and  Mink.  The  '  Owl  and  the  Birds,'  '  Old  Zip  Cooii,'  the  '  Big  Injun  and 
the  Buzzard,'  are  joyous  echoes  of  the  plantation-lore  that  first  delighted  us  in  '  Uncle 
Remus.'  Kemble's  illustrations,  evidently  studied  from  life,  are  interspersed  in  these 
pages  of  a  book  of  consummate  charm." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


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